


How To Mend a Broken Heart

by messandahalf



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Emotional Hurt, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: It’s been six months since Arthur last saw Merlin: six months since he told Merlin to leave Camelot, and Merlin told him that if he did, he was never coming back. Now, the knights and Guinevere team up to get Arthur to bring Merlin back home. What better way than an imagined new magical threat building on the horizon that only Merlin can stop?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 156
Kudos: 653





	1. Chapter 1

Six months was a long time to watch the king of Camelot mope through his daily duties. It was also a long time for the knights to take the brunt of the king’s frustrations. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault, necessarily. It just kind of ended up happening. Pushing Merlin away had been hard on him, and once a sword was put in his hand, he tended to just let his repressed emotions go a little bit. However, unbeknownst to him, Guinevere and the knights had, had enough. If their king was determined to ignore the situation, then it was up to them to force him to right the wrong he had committed.

The plan was a simple one. They had to convince Arthur that there was a new threat to Camelot that only Merlin would prevent. It’s not like Arthur stayed up to date on the magical happenings of the world, so the seeds of concern were planted quite effectively. A citizen of one of the outlying villages telling wild tales of trees sprouting up overnight, bearing fruit that was rotten and poisoned. Another voicing concerns of wild beasts that attacked in the dead of night, but never ate their prey. They merely killed for sport. Naturally, Arthur took the bait and sent his most trusted knights off to investigate. Said knights only felt a little bad about lying to their king about what they saw.

As persuasive as the knights were, it was up to Guinevere to fully convince the king of what he had to do. It wasn’t an easy task, and the sweet hearted woman hated lying to her closest friend, but she knew that it was an, unfortunately, necessary evil. Her part in their little scheme was the hardest, considering Arthur could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be.

Arthur was in his chambers when Gwen found him. He was chewing on his lip with uncertainty, looking down at the notes he had compiled about the varying magical attacks seemingly happening under his nose. He did not hate magic as his father had, but he did not like the citizens of Camelot being put in such danger.

“Arthur?” Gwen pipes up from the doorway. She had opened it a crack to peek in. Arthur looks up, offering a very tense smile upon seeing his friend.

“Yes, Gwen?” He gestures her to come in, and she does, albeit hesitantly. Arthur lays down his parchment to give her his full, undivided attention.

“How are you holding up?” She asks, never one to really beat around the bush and give Arthur the chance to fully pull away. Arthur sighs and scrubs at his face with a weary hand.

“Honestly?” He says, and Gwen nods. “I don’t know what to do. All I know is that my people have been targeted, but I don’t know why, or by whom. I can’t protect them if I don’t even know what I’m protecting them against.”

Gwen approaches him, stopping by his side and laying a sympathetic and reassuring hand on his shoulder. He glances up at her, a small, grateful smile on his lips, before looking away again. He is the king. He should not be showing such weakness. Not even to his friends.

“I know.” Gwen says softly. “I think the only thing we know for sure is that magic is involved.”

Arthur hums slightly. “So it would seem.” He says quietly, eyes once again drifting over the scattered parchment in front of him. “Unfortunately, my knowledge of magic is small. I am no better equipped to defend against it than I am to fill in down in the kitchens.” He adds bitterly. Gwen sees her chance, but knows that she must approach the subject carefully.

“Well,” she starts slowly, “I have a suggestion, but you won’t like it.”

Arthur looks up at her. “Go on. No matter how outlandish you think your idea is, I want to hear it. I’m open to suggestions at the moment.”

Gwen hesitates for another moment before replying, “We do know someone who is quite knowledgeable in magic.” Arthur narrows his eyes suspiciously, but doesn’t say anything. “Perhaps someone could ride out to him and ask for help.” Gwen continues.

Arthur frowns. “No. That won’t work.” He says, making Gwen sigh internally.

“You don’t know that for sure.” She argues, making Arthur’s frown deepen. “A lot can happen in six months, Arthur. You never know.”

Arthur gets to his feet and walks away a few steps. He knows who Gwen is talking about, and he knows that her idea will never work. Not after what happened the last time they ever spoke. Even now, a white hot knife twists in his chest as he thinks of _His_ face. The hurt, and anger, and betrayal written so clearly across his features. No. He could never face him again after that. Gwen’s gentle hand on his forearm brings him back to the present, but the cold in his heart remains.

“Arthur, your people need you. You’re the only one who can bring him back.” Gwen says, keeping her voice as soft and even as possible.

Arthur laughs, an empty and humourless sound. “He will never come back, least of all for me. Perhaps you should’ve gone to Lancelot or Gwaine. They’d have a better chance of even being able to speak to him than I.” The bitterness in his tone is directed at himself. He has never forgiven himself for what he did.

“You don’t know that for sure. You can’t. The two of you were closer than any two people I’ve ever met. Friendship like that doesn’t just disappear. Not even after six months.” She presses. He _has_ to do this. He can’t keep living half alive anymore.

“You weren’t there, Gwen.” He says, voice quiet and filled with regret and hurt. “You didn’t hear what was said. What _I_ said. Believe me when I say that he will never come back, especially if I am the one doing the asking.”

Guinevere was always a very empathetic person, and her heart went out to her king seeing him so broken and lost. “Maybe that’s why you’re the only one who can convince him to return. You regret your actions. You admit you made a mistake. Maybe he needs to hear you say that. He is probably hurting as much as you are, Arthur. You were two sides of the same coin, your destinies interwoven. Something that strong doesn’t simply go away. Camelot needs you, and you need him. Arthur, you need Merlin.”

Arthur flinches away at Merlin’s name. The people around him had taken to avoiding using Merlin’s name whenever they were in the king’s presence. He’s suddenly feeling choked up, so full of pushed away emotions that he thinks he might burst from the vastness of them all. He had avoided thinking of Merlin as much as he could, not wanting to open old wounds. He had done his best to bury the past and accept that he would never see Merlin again. Now, Gwen was asking him to do the impossible.

“It’s not that simple.” He breathes, voice warbled around the lump in his throat.

“I know.” Gwen replies softly. “Trust me, I know how hard this is for you, and if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary I wouldn’t even ask it of you.”

Arthur turns haunted eyes her way. “I don’t even know where he is. How am I supposed to find him and bring him back to Camelot if I don’t even know where to look?”

Gwen had thought of that little snag. She had discussed it with the knights, and even they didn’t know where he was. Merlin never told anyone where he was going, he just simply vanished. Lancelot and Gwaine had looked, worried for their friend, but they had never found him. Wherever Merlin had gone, he didn’t want to be found.

“You know him better than anyone else. If anyone can find him, it’s you.” Gwen replies resolutely. Arthur snorts out another hollow, sad laugh.

“Do I? Did I? I knew him for years without knowing the biggest thing about him. I thought I knew him, but apparently he didn’t trust me enough to let me know all of him.” He replies bitterly, his old feelings of resentment rushing to the surface. They are unwanted feelings, but he can’t control it.

Gwen huffs. “Can you really blame him? Once you did find out you told him to leave! You did one of the things he was most worried you’d do!” She retorts. She only feels mildly guilty when Arthur visibly flinches. What she said was the truth, and Arthur knew it. Instead of amending the laws, Arthur had panicked and banished him from Camelot to avoid having to have him executed.

“I’m sorry.” Gwen finally relents. “I know how difficult this has been for you, how much that decision has weighed on you. This is your chance to make it right. We all miss Merlin. Ultimately, it is up to you, and as our king, we will stand by whatever you decide to do.”

Arthur purses his lips and nods, not fully trusting his voice at the moment. Gwen curtsies and leaves, but her words are still echoing throughout the room. Her suggestion made sense. If anyone could protect Camelot against a new magical threat, it was Merlin. He was the most powerful warlock in the world, after all. The only question was, would be? Did he feel any loyalty to the kingdom anymore? Despite his best efforts, memories of his last conversation with Merlin flood to the surface of his mind.

 **Flashback  
** _It had been a week since Arthur had found about about Merlin’s secret, and he had yet to actually talk to the other man again. He had been, admittedly, avoiding Merlin. He didn’t know what to say, or how to react. Arthur had never revoked the ban on magic, and so, by law, Merlin was a criminal. Still, he was his friend and loyal servant, and he didn’t want to have him executed._

_A brisk knock on the door makes him jump. He had gotten lost him his head yet again. He mumbles a barely coherent order to come in, and the door dutifully opens. He’s honestly surprised whoever was on the other side even heard his reply. When he actually looks up to see who had entered his chambers, it suddenly makes sense. Of course it was Merlin._

_“Arthur.” He says simply, never having been one for propriety or using proper titles. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.” He demands. Arthur raises an eyebrow. That statement was bold, even for Merlin._

_“And why exactly do you think that?” He asks instead. Merlin visibly grits his teeth, and Arthur surprisingly feels himself grow worried._

_“Because it’s obvious.” Merlin replies shortly. “You’re always up before I ever even get here, which has never happened before. You shoo me away as soon as the breakfast tray hits your table. You refuse to even acknowledge my existence when I’m putting your armour on. I have done something, and I want to know what.”_

_Arthur studies Merlin wordlessly, trying to decide how best to go about this unpleasant conversation. He feels backed into a corner. To suddenly revoke the ban on magic could make him look weak, but to execute Merlin after the man had saved his life would make him look callous and incapable of compassion. He didn’t really have many options._

_“I think you know what the issue is, Merlin.” He says quietly, reluctantly. Merlin has been a close friend for years, and to suddenly be faced with the probable situation of losing him terrifies Arthur more than he’d care to admit._

_Merlin scowls. “Magic. That’s what this is about? The fact that I was born with magic?” The words are like a sucker punch to Arthur’s gut. He had no idea that Merlin had been_ born _with magic. He has assumed he had learned it despite the laws that his father had put in place._

_“It’s against the law, Merlin.” Arthur says, trying to keep all emotion out of his tone. Merlin merely glares more ferociously at his words._

_“I’ve been using magic to save your life ever since we met.” He states, staring insolently at his king. His words have a rather peculiar effect on Arthur. He can’t decide if the feeling is good or bad._

_“Be that as it may,” he starts with great difficulty, “it is still banned. Using magic to save my life does not excuse the offence.” He internally winces at how much like his father he sounds. Merlin merely looks murderous._

_“So the fact that I have never used my magic for anything but good means nothing?” He challenges, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Would you rather I had just let you die when that old woman had thrown a knife at you?” Arthur is almost taken aback by Merlin’s words. Although Merlin had said that he had been using magic his entire time in Camelot, Arthur guessed he hadn’t really believed the statement. Apparently Merlin has been telling the truth. He had saved Arthur from a sorceress by using sorcery. He was starting to get a headache._

_Arthur sighs in exhaustion. “Merlin, it’s not that simple. As king, I have to make sure that all laws are obeyed. If I don’t, there will be chaos.” Merlin rolls his eyes, huffing rather dramatically, in Arthur’s opinion._

_“So change the law. Your father’s ban on magic and the subsequent purge is what made sorcerers and sorceresses push back so violently. Lift the ban on magic and only persecute those who would use it for harm. Magic is no more dangerous than a sword when in the right hands.” Merlin begs._

_Arthur chews on his lip, looking away uncertainly. “It’s not that simple.” He repeats, voice pained. He involuntarily flinches away as Merlin approaches, and he’s suddenly filled with shame. This is Merlin. He’d never intentionally hurt anybody. Merlin notices and stops his approach._

_“It can be that simple if you let it.” Merlin says quietly. Arthur feels like there’s something clawing at his chest, trying desperately to rip him open and watch him bleed to death. Merlin is wrong, nothing is_ ever _simple when you’re king. When he doesn’t reply, Merlin pleads, “Arthur, please.”_

_Arthur looks up, meeting his friend’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. Changing the laws could have any number of repercussions that he can’t even imagine. What happens if he repeals the ban and someone takes the chance to rise up and destroy Camelot? He cannot put his people in unnecessary danger. He also cannot sit back and watch Merlin die._

_“Merlin, I can’t.” He finally says stoically. Merlin flinches away from the words like he’s actually been physically hit. “Please, Merlin, you have to see this from my perspective.” He adds, just needing Merlin to understand. Merlin stays silent for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he looks away from Arthur to glare daggers into the wall instead._

_“You know,” he says, voice like the sharp edge of a blade, “I thought we were friends. I thought we trusted each other. I guess I was wrong. About everything.” He turns back to look Arthur in the eyes. “You’re just like your father.” He spits venomously._

_“Merlin.” Arthur says, getting defensive, but Merlin doesn’t let him finish._

_“Are you going to kill me then?” He asks with resentment. “You going to stand before all your people and have me executed?” Arthur feels sick to his stomach._

_“No. Of course not.” He defends, unable to even_ think _about watching Merlin have his head cut off or being burned alive._

_“Then what?” Merlin demands, face set in a stony glare. That sick feeling in Arthur’s gut doesn’t go away as he struggles to speak._

_“You need to leave.” He finally forces out reluctantly. Merlin stares at him mutely as he lets the king’s words envelope him. He looks away, something that looks suspiciously like tears in his eyes._

_“So that’s it?” He chokes out. “You’re exiling me from Camelot?”_

_Arthur has tears in his own eyes when he finally manages to breathe out a pained, “Yes.”_

_Merlin nods, swallowing thickly several times before he can respond. “If I leave, I am never coming back.” His voice is shaky, but his tone is firm and resolute. He means it. If Arthur let’s him walk out of this room, he will never see Merlin again._

_“So be it.” The words slip off his tongue so easily. Merlin lifts startled eyes up to Arthur’s face. They soon grow cold and unfeeling. There is a tense set to his shoulders that Arthur has never seen there before. He wants nothing more than to comfort his friend, to tell him that everything is going to be okay, but he can’t._

_“Very well.” Merlin says softly, then he turns to go. He crosses the room silently, but pauses with his hand on the door. He’s giving Arthur one last chance to change his mind. Arthur’s heart is yelling at him to stop him, to tell him not to leave, but his mouth stays firmly closed. He watches as Merlin’s shoulders slump. His legs give out as Merlin disappears, and he crashes to the floor. He doesn’t think anything has ever hurt this much in his life.  
_ **End Flashback**

Fresh tears are streaming unhindered down his cheeks, but he makes no move to brush them away. He has tried so hard not to think of that moment in time, but he always inevitably ends up torturing himself with it. He should have stopped him. He should have begged him not to leave. Got down on his knees and begged for forgiveness. He had regretted everything mere moments after Merlin had left. By the time he had gone searching for Merlin, it had been too late. He was already gone, and taken most of Arthur’s heart with him.

Was it too late to apologize now? If by some miracle he even found Merlin, would he even he given the chance to try to right the biggest mistake of his life? He definitely wouldn’t hold it against Merlin if he chose to turn Arthur away. Why grant him the liberty that he had never given Merlin?

A wave of exhaustion overcomes him, and he moves to perch on the edge of his bed. No matter what he chose to do, his people needed him. Even if this threat turned out to be nothing in the end, Arthur refuses to risk the lives of the citizens of Camelot. The choice was an obvious one. As difficult as it may be, he had to leave Camelot in search of Merlin. Surely Merlin would be willing to return to help his friends, even if he didn’t want to return for Arthur’s sake.

Heaving a weary sigh, he gets back to his feet to return to his table. He stacks his notes up into an uneven pile, then moves around the room, systematically pulling out various maps. He doesn’t know where Merlin is, so he’ll have to study as many areas as he can to familiarize himself with the terrain in and around the kingdom. He must he prepared for anything if he wishes to not only survive, but to also succeed.

By the time that Gwen reappears, laden down with dinner, he has pored over every map in his possession, and packed a bag with everything he thinks he might need for the journey. Gwen looks upon him with approving eyes.

“You’re going after him, then?” She asks. Arthur nods as he stuffs a sheathed dagger in amongst his clothes.

“Yes. For the people of Camelot, it is the best course of action available to me. I cannot be sure that he will agree to hear me out, much less return, but I have to at least try.” He pauses as he stands up straight again. “I will ride out at first light.”

Gwen nods, satisfied in her completion of her task. She is sure that Merlin will forgive Arthur. After all, she watched them both fall hopelessly in love every day for years.


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word, Arthur is up before the sun has risen. He gets his servant, some man he never cared to learn the name of, to pack enough food for several days journey, and make sure his horse is ready and waiting for him. Both Lancelot and Gwaine are hovering by his horse as he appears at the top of the stairs. Arthur doesn’t say anything as he makes his way down to his horse, already tacked and bagged down with his belongings.

“Sire, we could come with you. Who knows what you will find out there.” Lancelot says once Arthur is close enough. Gwaine nods his silent agreement.

“No. With me gone, Camelot with need you here for protection.” Arthur tells them both.

“And what if you need protecting?” Gwaine finally pipes up. Arthur finally turns to fully look at them, patient and indulgent smile on his face. The knights know very well that Arthur can take care of himself. So why are they pushing to come along so strongly?

“Alright, out with it. What do you think I need protecting from?” He asks. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as Lancelot and Gwaine share a look, silently having a conversation without their king outright hearing it.

Finally, Lancelot says, “Well, it’s just that there could be bandits out there, or enemy knights. Who knows what kingdoms you might have to cross to find Merlin.”

Arthur resists the urge to sigh. “I can handle bandits, and wouldn’t one person crossing over Camelot’s borders into other king’s lands be less conspicuous than three?” He counters.

“Well, what if you run into trouble with some dark magic?” Gwaine pipes up. This time, Arthur _does_ sigh.

“Last I checked,” he says, “neither of you were any better equipped to combat magic than me. Now, tell me your true motivation for wanting to accompany me. I do not appreciate your wasting my time.”

Both Lancelot and Gwaine have the sense to look sufficiently cowed by Arthur’s very mild verbal discipline. They once again share a quick look, and it seems, for all the world, that they’re begging the other one to be the one who speaks their mind. Arthur’s patience is wearing thin. He has a kingdom to protect, a wayward warlock to find, and his heart is already threatening to give out at the prospect of seeing Merlin again. When neither knight seems to be willing to speak, Arthur heaves an exasperated sign and turns to mount his horse.

“Wait.” Lancelot blurts out. When Arthur turns to look at him, he drops his eyes to their feet. “It’s Merlin. We’re worried about him.” He says softly.

“But it’s not just that.” Gwaine adds hesitantly. Arthur turns his expectant eyebrow his way and Gwaine shuffles back a step. Arthur _really_ doesn’t have the patience for this.

“Then what is it?” He finally snaps after another moment of reluctant and tense silence.

Lancelot grimaces, but replies, “We’re worried about what he’ll do. How he’ll react to seeing you again. You did not part ways in a friendly manner, and while I do not believe, even for a moment, that Merlin would intentionally hurt you, he may accidentally do so out of pure instinct and self-preservation.”

Arthur doesn’t reply, he merely looks between his two knights thoughtfully. It is true, the very same thought had crossed his mind as well. Merlin had never displayed any intention whatsoever to harm even one hair on Arthur’s head, but that was before. Arthur doesn’t know how his old friend will react to seeing him again. It could be fine, but it could also be the exact opposite.

“I appreciate your concern.” He finally tells his knights. “However, let me deal with Merlin. Whatever he may or may not do to me, I deserve. He will not come to any harm from my blade, I trust you know that. Your concerns have been noted, but I stand by my decision. This is something I must do on my own.”

Lancelot and Gwaine both nod grimly, taking a step back as Arthur swings up into the saddle. His horse paws restlessly, and he soothes it with a stroke on the neck. He looks down at his knights, then up at the approaching figure of Gwen. She makes it down the stairs gracefully, stopping by Lancelot’s side. Arthur doesn’t miss the way Lancelot’s arm slides around her waist. He feels himself smile.

“I trust that Camelot will be in good hands while I am away.” He says, to which everyone nods solemnly.

“Where will you start?” Gwen asks.

“Ealdor.” Arthur replies. “I doubt very much he stayed there, it’s too obvious, but perhaps his mother knows where he was headed.” He is sure that when Lancelot and Gwaine had gone searching for Merlin before, that they had checked Ealdor. They probably already questioned Hunith on her son’s whereabouts. Had they learned anything of consequence, they would have surely told him by now. Still, it was the only place he could think of to start.

Gwen gives him a small smile. “Good luck.” She says softly. Just as Arthur is making ready to leave on his journey, Gwen’s voice stops him again. “Bring him home, Arthur. Camelot needs Merlin.”

He clenches his jaw to refrain from replying, and nods. He has every intention of getting the both of them back to Camelot safely. He nudges his horse forward, his friends stepping back as he leaves the courtyard. Merlin’s preferred mount follows behind, where the reins are looped securely around the back of Arthur’s saddle.

~~~

The journey to Ealdor is quiet. The reason behind this journey is weighing heavily on Arthur’s mind. He misses Merlin terribly. The almost constant babbling and clumsy oafishness. He even misses the snarky quips about his person and his character. Rides now, especially alone, are much too silent, despite the hooves thundering over the packed earth, and the snorts of the horses as they breath. His heart constricts in his chest as he thinks about what might happen should he fail to find Merlin at all.

Arthur cuts those thoughts off, silently berating himself for giving up before he has truly even begun. Merlin may not want to be found, but Arthur is far from being a quitter. He refuses to accept defeat. He will not give up, or go back home alone. Gwen was right. Camelot needs Merlin. Arthur needs Merlin.

His mind wanders to what he’ll say to Merlin once he does find him. Since his conversation with Gwen the day before, he had planned, and subsequently scrapped, several different apologies. None of them seemed good enough. Merlin deserved the world after what Arthur had done to him, and he was worried that he wouldn’t be good enough. There was every chance, no matter how much the thought killed him, that Merlin would not forgive him. He certainly didn’t feel as though he deserved it.

He rides for as long as he can, only stopping when the failing sunlight demands it of him. He makes camp alone, only struggling a little bit with the tasks that he knows how to do, but has very little experience doing. After filling his growling belly, he lays down and stares up at the night sky. The stars twinkle back at him, and he can’t help feeling like they’re laughing at him. Laughing at what he’s trying to do. Perhaps they know something he does not. They’re still glinting down at him as he slips into a fitful sleep, dreams plagued by blue eyes flashing gold.

~~~

The early rising of the sun finds Arthur already awake, surprising even himself. He has his things packed, and the horses saddled and ready to go about an hour later. He wants to reach Ealdor by midday, so as soon as the horses have been fed and watered, he is on his way.

His skin starts tingling as Ealdor finally comes into view. It’s a small village, just as he remembers. Several citizens appear, interest clear on their faces, as he rides closer. No one speaks to him until he has stopped, dismounted, and addressed them directly.

“Do any of you know where I can find Hunith?” He asks, surveying the people around him.

“I am here, my Lord. What is it you need of me?” A voice pipes up. The people part for her as she approaches. She is older than Arthur remembers, more frail and more grey.

“It is about Merlin.” He replies. Hunith looks up, eyes worried for her son.

“Is he all right?” She asks, concern clearly evident in her tone.

Arthur takes a measured breath. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” He suggests. Hunith nods, turning and gesturing for Arthur to follow her. She leads him through the village, children of all ages coming out of their homes to gaze upon him with wonder and awe. He makes sure to smile at all of them.

“Tell me what has happened to my Merlin.” Hunith says as they both enter her meagre home. Arthur doesn’t really know what to tell her. How much of the story should he divulge?

“It’s complicated.” He says awkwardly.

Hunith nods, as understanding as any mother should be. “Yes, most things do seem that way. Perhaps it is best if you start at the very beginning. Maybe then things may make more sense.”

Hunith’s kind nature makes Arthur feel as though he can trust her. So he does as she suggested. He starts at the beginning, how Merlin had risked his life to save Arthur‘s own. How Arthur had repaid that risk by throwing him out of his home. At this point, Arthur pauses to apologize profusely, vowing that he knew he had made a terrible mistake, and was, in fact, here to try to rectify it. To her credit, Hunith makes no comment, merely presses her lips into a thin line, and nods for him to continue.

Arthur is more careful with the details behind his journey now. The less people are aware of this potential new threat, the less mass panic he will have on his hands. He does explain how Merlin is Camelot’s only hope, and how he needs to find him again as soon as possible.

“Have you seen him, or heard from him at all? Have you any clues as to where I can find him?” He asks earnestly. To his great disappointment, Hunith shakes her head.

“No, I haven’t. He passed by here six months ago, but he merely said he was free from his duties to you. I assumed he meant that he had just taken a few days leave. He never breathed a word of the the tale you have just told me.” She replies.

Arthur’s chest feels constricted as he says, “So you have no idea where I should look for him? Please, any small detail will help.”

Hunith shakes her head again. “I’m sorry. Until he left for Camelot, he stayed very close to the village. He would wander a bit, as every child does sometimes, but he never went so far that I had to search for him.”

Arthur chews on his lip, dropping his gaze to his restless hands. “When he left six months ago, which direction did he go?” He asks.

Hunith gets to her feet to peer out the window. “That way.” She says, pointing away from Camelot. Clearly he had wanted to get as far away from Arthur as possible. Arthur really can’t blame him for that.

“I guess that’s as good a start as any.” He replies, voice heavy with resignation. “I am truly sorry for what I have done to your son.”

Hunith surprises him by clasping his hands tightly in hers. “Find him and bring him home to safety. Follow your heart, and I know you will find him.”

Arthur leaves soon after, following the path that Merlin had taken six months before. His heart is heavy with regret, and sadness, and fear as he leaves Hunith and Ealdor behind him. He believes Merlin’s mother when she says that she has no idea where Merlin is, which scares him. His mother had always been a very important part of Merlin’s life. Why cut her out completely, as he had everyone back in Camelot? Was it intentional, or had something happened to him? Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Merlin before he had the chance to apologize and admit that he had been wrong.

~~~

Arthur is once again forced to make camp for the night. He was no closer to finding Merlin, and he was already growing frustrated. It had only been two days since he had left Camelot. He wondered of their safety back home. Had anything happened while he had been away? Were his people safe? He once again sleeps poorly, tossing and turning endlessly on the hard ground.

He is up before the sun, having only managed to snag a couple hours of sleep. His muscles are weary and his mind is craving sleep, but there is nothing to be done about it. He clears up camp, and readies the horses, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, instead of the impossible quest he has set out on. He knew from the maps he had studied that there was another village up ahead, and if he was lucky, he should reach it that day. Perhaps they knew of Merlin’s whereabouts.

Just as he had hoped, he arrives at the small village that afternoon. The townsfolk all appear as he rides into the heart of their small village, huddled together in wary groups.

“I mean no harm.” He says as he slides off his horse. “I am merely here seeking information.”

An older, grizzled man steps forward. “What is it you wish to know?” He queries, eyes leaning more towards distrustful than anything else.

“I am looking for a man.” Arthur replies. “His name is Merlin.” The other man looks thoughtful for a moment before he shakes his head.

“There is no one here by that name.” He answers stoically.

“Perhaps he passed through here.” Arthur tries, bordering on desperate. “He’s about my height. Dark hair, blue eyes. Did any of you see him? This would’ve been roughly six months ago.” Arthur adds, turning his head to take in the rest of the townsfolk. He is met with murmurs of _‘no’_ and several firm shakes of the head. He is truly starting to lose hope when a young girl steps forward.

“I have heard stories of a man who lives up near the mountain who matches the man you speak of.” She says, voice soft and shy. Arthur approaches her and sinks down on one knee to better face her.

“And what do these stories say?” He asks gently.

“They say he uses magic, but he keeps to himself. He rarely leaves the place he lives. He is distrustful of visitors, but he has never harmed anyone. Still, people are wary of him.” Arthur’s flagging hope sparks once again at the little girl’s words. He smiles gratefully down at her.

“Which way to the mountain?” He asks. She points with her small hand, and Arthur all but beams at her.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely. As he gets back to his feet, the man from before approaches him.

“I would be careful. The man is a sorcerer. The ban on magic in these lands may have been lifted, but he is still not to be trusted.”

Arthur gives him a wan smile. “If this man is who I hope it to be, I would trust him with my life.” He replies. Hurrying back to his horse, he climbs back into the saddle. “Thank you for your help.” He says as he points his horse in the direction of the mountain and rides out of the village.

The going is difficult, and there are many parts of the forest that he must dismount and lead the horses, as the trees grow too thickly for him to be able to ride. As it is, low hanging branches catch at his clothing and skin, leaving snags and small red cuts in their wake. If it truly is Merlin at the other end of this forest, then he picked a good location where few would ever stumble across him.

The light is starting to fade when the trees finally start to thin out slightly. There’s are stumps scattered about throughout the trees, suggesting that someone had been here, cutting them down. That gives Arthur another flare of hope. If it is not Merlin, then perhaps whoever it is may have seen Merlin. Maybe Merlin had stayed with them for a bit before moving on.

After what feels like forever, Arthur finally breaks free of the trees crowding in around him, and rides into a small clearing. There is a modest cottage in the middle, but the windows are dark and there’s no smoke rising from the chimney. There’s a small well off to the right, on the very edge of the forest. There’s a fire pit nestled near the corner of the cottage, a decent size pile of firewood stacked nearby.

Arthur scans the clearing as best he can in the dwindling sunlight, but he can’t see anybody. He dismounts again, tying the horses securely to a couple trees at the edge of the forest. Just in case, he pulls his sword out from where it was sheathed on his horse’s shoulder, and proceeds into the clearing on foot. He keeps his eyes and ears open for any sign of movement around him, but he appears to be utterly alone.

He stops at the fire pit, crouching to hover his hand over the ashes. He isn’t at all surprised to find them cold. There is every chance that no one lives here anymore. Still, he approaches the door to the small cottage and bangs on the wood.

“Hello?” He calls out, his voice echoing back to him. He can feel his hope start to flag in his chest. Perhaps Merlin had been here, but it seems like he isn’t anymore. He turns slowly, surveying what he can of the trees surrounding him. With a sigh, he slowly moves away from the cottage to walk around the perimeter. He’s here now, he may as well search the place thoroughly.

He’s only a few steps away from the door when he hears the snap of a twig in the forest off to his left, near where the well is. He freezes in place, fixing his gaze in the direction of the noise. He practically holds his breath as he strains to hear anything else. Due to the continually fading light, he can’t make out anything amongst the trees. It was probably just a deer.

But then he catches movement. His eyes stay fixed on the shape now moving through the trees toward him. He readies himself for a potential fight, not sure who or what is currently approaching him. He slowly starts to make his way forward.

“Who’s there?” He calls out authoritatively. There’s no answer. Not that he was really expecting one. Suddenly, a fire flares up in the fire pit beside him, and he jumps away, focus pulled away from the approaching figure. He curses under his breath as he looks back. His breath catches in his throat as he finally sees who it is. He looked exactly the same, and yet so very different at the same time.

“Merlin.” He breathes softly.


	3. Chapter 3

“Merlin.” He repeats, a little more strongly. He takes a step closer, and when Merlin doesn’t turn tail and run, he takes a few more. He’s almost thinking that he was all worried for nothing, that of course Merlin would forgive him, when Merlin tenses. Arthur is a couple metres away, and in the light from the roaring fire behind him, he notices Merlin’s eyes drift down to the sword still clutched tightly in his hand. He stops immediately, spearing the tip of the blade in the dirt and letting go. Merlin wouldn’t actually think that Arthur was there to hurt him, would he?

“I didn’t come here to hurt you.” He assures him, lifting his hands up to show that they are empty. Merlin’s eyes flick from the sword back to Arthur himself. He stays silent and unmoving as he appraises Arthur. Something about the look in his eyes is making Arthur’s skin crawl.

Finally, Merlin quietly asks, “How did you find me?” Arthur blinks at the question. He was expecting a _why_ , not a _how_. He studies Merlin instead of answering. His expression is shuttered, his body language guarded. It’s obvious that Arthur is not welcome here.

“You are not an easy person to find.” He finally answers. Merlin narrows his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I know.” He says back, and even his voice is on edge. After another tense second, he takes a step closer to Arthur. “That didn’t answer my question.”

Arthur is able to see him a little better now that he’s a little closer to the light. His hair has gotten longer, curling down around his ears and flopping over his forehead. He’s still wearing the same clothes he always did, but they don’t seem to hang off of him the way they used to. He’s clearly filled out a little more, gained a bit of muscle. He must’ve, if he’s been surviving on his own all this time. His eyes, however, are what really grab Arthur’s attention. Not only are they wary, but they’re tired. They’re not as brilliant and vibrant as they used to be. Instead of being full of life, they’re now dull and grey.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice snaps him out of his observations. “How did you find me?” He asks again. He clearly wants an answer.

“Your mum pointed me in this direction, and the little girl in the nearby town pointed me the rest of the way. Sheer luck got me here, truthfully.” He replies honestly. Merlin frowns at bit at the answer.

“You went to see my mum?” He asks. Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise. Why would Merlin care about that, of all things?

“Yes. I had been hoping that she knew where you were. She didn’t. Seems you cut her out of your life as well.” Arthur reprimands. Merlin looks decidedly angry for a moment before schooling his expression back to something more neutral.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Is all Merlin says in reply. Arthur stares at him in mild shock. This was not the man he remembered. He didn’t know this new Merlin at all. That made him uneasy. If he didn’t know Merlin anymore, then he had no way of knowing how he would react to Arthur’s request.

“Look, Merlin, I’m here—“ He doesn’t get to finish. Merlin turns his head away and scoffs. When Arthur looks at him, mouth open in surprise, Merlin rolls his eyes and continues to make his way toward his cottage. He makes sure to keep well out of reach of Arthur as he passes by. Arthur watches him go wordlessly.

“I don’t care why you are here, Arthur.” Merlin says over his shoulder as he stops to set down his armful of fresh firewood. “You need to leave.”

Arthur stumbles back a step at Merlin’s words, and the sharp, decisive tone in which they are delivered. He’s never known Merlin to be so aloof. So borderline uncaring. Guilt and regret build strength in his chest, leaving him feeling weak and broken. What had he done to the caring, compassionate soul he used to know? To the man who would sooner give up his life to save someone else then ever sit and watch someone suffer?

“You don’t mean that.” Arthur argues weakly. Merlin looks back at him again, and there is pain in his eyes. Pain that Arthur put there six months ago. He would do anything to be able to make that pain go away. To make it never exist in the first place. But he can’t, and he has to live with that knowledge everyday.

Merlin tilts his head slightly as he says, “Why not?” Arthur stares helplessly back. This can’t be Merlin. This can’t be the boy that Arthur l—

“Because it’s not you. You’re supposed to help other people. You always have.” He croaks. Merlin once again narrows his eyes, but he does finally turn to face Arthur properly again. Arthur isn’t sure if that is a win or not.

“Tell me, Arthur, how well that worked for me in the past. I sacrificed everything for everyone, and I never got anything back in return.” Merlin bites back. He sounds stilted and jaded. Arthur thinks he might actually be physically sick. Of all the scenarios he played out in his head, this had never occurred to him. He never even once thought that perhaps he had changed Merlin. He didn’t want to believe what as happening, but the proof was currently staring him in the face.

“Merlin, please.” Arthur begs. _Please don’t do this. Don’t tell me that you’ve changed. Don’t show me. Please, I’m sorry. Camelot needs you. I need you. Please don’t turn me away. Don’t leave me again. Please, please, please, Merlin. I l—_

Merlin slowly approaches Arthur, curiosity clearly etched across every feature of his face. Arthur doesn’t move, barely even dares to breath, as Merlin gets closer. He has to resist the urge to drop his eyes and squirm as Merlin studies him intently. He would give anything to know what his old friend was thinking. Could he read minds? Maybe he just remembered Arthur well enough to be able to read his face, his body.

“You’ve changed.” Merlin muses softly, and the sudden sound in the otherwise quiet around them nearly makes Arthur flinch. “The Arthur I remember would never have come begging for anything. He’d come demanding it.”

Arthur wants to deny it. He wants to assure Merlin that he would never demand anything of him, but he knew that, that would be a lie. He always had demanded something from Merlin, hadn’t he? _Clean this, do that, get this ready, bring my food, fix my clothes, be loyal to me, respect me._ It had always been that way, up until he demanded his last. _Leave._

Merlin’s gaze is intense as he continues. “What has happened that has made you come here, pleading for my help?” There is almost a flicker of a smirk on his face. “That is why you’re here, is it not?”

Arthur pauses for a moment, mouth half open, before replying. “I thought you didn’t care?”

Merlin blows air out of his nose in a gentle huff of unamused laughter. “I don’t, not really. Call it mild curiosity.” He replies offhandedly, but Arthur can see the lie in his eyes. Despite what he says, he still cares. Maybe not for Arthur, but for his mum, and Gwen, and the knights he’d befriended. Arthur no longer matters to him, but they still do.

“Camelot is potentially in danger.” Arthur finally replies after swallowing the lump steadily forming in his throat.

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “Potentially in danger?” He asks. “In my experience, it’s always in danger.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth curls up in a half smile. “Potentially. There have been rumours, stories of things happening in the outlying villages, but no actual attempt at an attack.”

“And what makes this so different that you had to come disturb me instead of just relying on your knights?” Merlin asks. Arthur can tell that he already knows the answer to his question, he just wants Arthur to confirm it. He wants to hear Arthur say it. Arthur feels his cheeks redden with shame, and his eyes drop to his feet.

“The knights are useless against this,” he says to the dirt, “because this threat is magical in nature.”

A deadly silence fills the clearing around them. He doesn’t dare to look up and see the look in Merlin’s eyes. Would there be hatred there? Or perhaps sadness? Did Merlin regret ever saving Arthur’s life in the first place? Did he regret ever going to Camelot and meeting Arthur altogether? The uncertainty of everything in that moment twists in Arthur’s stomach. He should have never come. He should’ve left Merlin alone.

Merlin inhales, and lets it out slowly. “So, I’m a criminal for using magic until you have use for me? Then I’m your only hope, is that it?” He asks quietly. He doesn’t sound mad, but the emotionless way in which he speaks feels too much like the calm before the storm. Arthur doesn’t know what to say. He knows he should apologize, that this is the perfect moment to tell Merlin that he was wrong, that he was just scared, and confused, and panicked. He made the wrong decision, and he had regretted it ever since. _God, Merlin, I have done so many horrible things, but hurting you was the worst. I don’t deserve it, but can you please forgive me? Please come home. Come back to me. I promise that I’ll never do you wrong again._ He says nothing.

Merlin clenches his jaw, eyes flashing angrily. “Coming here wasn’t your idea, was it? You were talked into it. Was it Gwen? This seems like something she would ask you to do.” He asks bitterly. Arthur involuntarily winces, making Merlin huff and turn slightly away.

“I am the king. No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do.” He answers firmly. Merlin’s eyes snap up to meet his, and they look devastated.

“We both know that’s a lie, don’t we?” Merlin counters, voice low and hurting. Arthur suddenly feels like he can’t really breathe.

“Merlin, I’m—“ And still, the words won’t come. They stick in his throat, turning sour on his tongue and burning his lungs. He wants to yell it as loud as he can, so the whole damn world knows that he was wrong, that he made a mistake, and he’s sorry, dammit he’s _so sorry_ , but his mouth refuses to form the words.

Merlin looks at him with broken eyes. “Maybe you haven’t changed after all.” He says before fully turning his back. He’s getting ready to leave again. He’s going to walk out of Arthur’s life for a second time, and Arthur is frozen. He wants to stop him, but his body won’t move. His voice won’t work. He wants to stop him. He needs to stop him. Stop him, stop him, _stop him!_

“Wait!” He cries, voice choked and refusing to let him talk clearly. Merlin stops and looks back at him. “I won’t deny it. I am here because Guinevere suggested it, but she did not force me. I made the decision to come find you. I travelled alone, and of my own free will. I am here because I want to be, not because someone else told me to be.”

Merlin scrutinizes him carefully again. “The king, coming to ask a sorcerer for help.” He says softly, almost like he’s intrigued. Arthur shakes his head firmly.

“No.” He says firmly. “I’m the king, coming to ask a friend for help. Please, Merlin, Camelot needs you. You were loyal to Camelot once. Are you not still?” He knows he’s begging again, but he doesn’t care. He can’t leave here alone. His heart won’t let him. Arthur watches as Merlin squeezes his eyes shut, almost like he’s in pain. When they slowly reopen, there’s tears glistening in them.

Merlin exhales shakily. “You’re wrong.” He whispers. “I never had any loyalty to Camelot, Arthur. I had loyalty to you.” He once again looks up to meet Arthur’s eyes, and the look in them twists the knife already lodged firmly in his chest.

“Merlin.” He wheezes.

Merlin looks away as a tear escapes his defences and slowly slips down his cheek. “You made it clear that, that loyalty was unwanted. You didn’t need me anymore.” Arthur can hear the unspoken _‘you didn’t want me anymore’_ ringing clearly through the air around him almost as if Merlin had actually spoken the words.

“You’re wrong.” He chokes. “That’s not true.” He never wanted to throw Merlin away. He never wanted to lose him. He always needed Merlin, he thought his friend knew that.

Merlin looks back at him. “Isn’t it? I was the royal punching bag, nothing more. I never did anything right, not in your eyes. I was just something there for you to load up, and push around, and yell at. As soon as I became a liability, you cut me loose.”

Despite his best intentions not to, Arthur staggers back a step. He can feel Merlin’s words pressing in around him, burning his skin through his clothes. That can’t be right. That can’t be how it happened. He shakes his head vehemently. _No, you’re wrong._

“We were friends, Merlin. I trusted you more than anybody else. I always counted on you to have my back.” He says, but he sounds desperate. Desperate to convince Merlin. Desperate to convince himself. Merlin was so much more than just his manservant. He was the person that Arthur felt the closest to.

“Friends don’t betray each other, Arthur.” Merlin intones. “If you trusted me so much, why did you make me leave? If you counted on me so much, why was it so easy to look the other way and replace me?” Merlin looks miserable as he stares back at Arthur, demanding an answer. Arthur wants to yell at him that he’s wrong. He was never replaced. He could never be replaced. Arthur can feel words bubbling to the surface, but for some reason he can’t make out what they are. His fear is steadily taking hold and blinding him to everything else.

“Because I panicked!” He yells, hands flying to his hair to tug harshly. “Magic was banned, and suddenly there you were, saving my life, and I didn’t know what to do. Everyone saw, and they were all watching me, to see what I would do, but I didn’t _know_ what to do! The one person that meant the most to me had all of a sudden been lying to me the entire time we had known each other, and it hurt. I was... angry. I felt betrayed and I lashed out. I made a split second decision, and I went with the option that would make me seem the least weak. I mercifully spared your life, but punished you for using magic.”

He turns his back on Merlin and releases his hair to wipe angrily at his wet eyes. He can feel his body shaking, trembling with pent up emotion and utter exhaustion. His few hours of sleep the night before seem to be catching up with him.

“I didn’t know what to do.” He repeats in a broken, hoarse whisper. After a deep steadying breath, he turns back to face Merlin. Merlin is staring at him, wide eyed and silent. Arthur opens his mouth to continue, but nothing comes out. He snaps his jaws closed and exhales shakily again. He looks down at his feet, where his right boot has been nervously digging a hole in the dirt.

“I went looking for you.” He says quietly. “After. I had wanted to... to say I was sorry. I went I see Gaius, hoping that you had merely run to him to vent about me like you always seemed to do, but you weren’t there. For the first time ever, you actually did what you were told.” He forces himself to look up again, and finds painful tears slowly rolling down Merlin’s cheeks.

“I changed the laws.” He adds. “Shortly after you left. Only those caught using dark magic are arrested now.” Merlin bites his lip and looks away. His entire body shudders and Arthur wants to wrap him up in his arms and hug him until he’s okay again. He stays where he is.

When Merlin finally speaks again, his voice is choked with emotion. “That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. What you did. I was terrified that I had finally shown my true self to you, and I so desperately wanted everything to be okay. You pushed me away when I most needed you. The world was changing, and all I wanted was my friends by my side. You took that away from me.”

Arthur closes his eyes tight, fighting a losing battle against the guilt trying to overcome him. He had hurt the one person he had never wanted to, and he would never forgive himself for that. Wouldn’t his father be proud of the man he had become?

“I know.” He says. “I know I hurt you, that I turned my back on you when you so clearly needed me. Nothing I will ever say will make me feel less guilty over what I did. At the time, I did what I thought was right, but it was the wrong decision. I am not worthy of your forgiveness, no matter how much I regret my actions. I only hope that you can find it in your heart to not let your friends suffer because of my actions.”

Merlin is looking back at him when Arthur finally dares to open his eyes. He is once again unreadable, and it’s unsettling for Arthur, who once knew him so well. He used to be able to take one look at Merlin and tell by the set of his shoulders how he felt. He could read in his eyes if he was happy or upset. Now, Merlin is like an unfamiliar book. Text written in a language that Arthur cannot speak or read.

“What if my answer is no?” Merlin asks. Arthur’s knee jerk reaction is to tell him that, that is unacceptable. He will not take no for answer. He will drag Merlin from this place, kicking and screaming, if he has to. He doesn’t though. He has no control over Merlin, and Merlin is more powerful than any other man Arthur knows. There’s no pulling Merlin back to Camelot against his will. His shoulders slump in defeat.

“Then I will accept the consequences of my actions. I will leave and never return. You will remain undisturbed, and I will go back to Camelot and protect my people as best I can.” He even sounds defeated. He had known in his heart all along that this wouldn’t work. Merlin would never forgive him. Why should he?

“What if I agree to help you? Then what?” Merlin’s words make him look back to his friend in shock. Was there a chance that Merlin might actually forgive him?

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady his wobbly voice before he can answer. “Then Camelot will forever be in your debt. After that, it’s up to you. You will always have a home in Camelot, Merlin, but should you choose to return here, then I can’t really stop you. No matter how much I may want to.”

Merlin nods thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip. _Please, God, come back. Come back and stay for good. We all miss you. Camelot doesn’t feel as warm without you there. It doesn’t feel like home. Please._

“I assume you brought that extra horse in hopes I’d agree to return.” Merlin finally says. Arthur nods. “I’d hate to put your new servant’s efforts to waste.” Arthur can barely believe what he’s hearing.

“So you’ll come back?” He asks to verify. Merlin nods.

“For now, yes. Do not mistake this for forgiveness, and do not assume this is permanent. But for my friends, I will return.” Then Merlin turns away.


	4. Chapter 4

The night is cold, and Arthur shivers as he pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders. Merlin had disappeared into his cottage shortly after they had spoken, after he had agreed to help, leaving Arthur outside alone. A chill runs through him again, and he shifts closer to the fire. He should be trying to sleep, he knows that, but he also knows it’s futile. Despite his exhaustion, his mind won’t let him rest. Merlin’s last words are still echoing around in his head. He is not forgiven. Maybe he never will be.

He startles slightly as the cottage door opens, Merlin’s silhouette framed in the light of the doorway. Arthur stares at him mutely, unsure why Merlin has decided to face him again. His eyes follow his old friend as Merlin slowly makes his way out of his cottage to sit by the fire as well. He doesn’t utter a word, just sits a few feet away and stares unseeingly into the flames.

“Are you hungry?” He finally asks, and his voice is soft, so unlike how it was not even an hour ago. Instead of defiant, he now sounds resigned. Arthur thinks that may actually be worse.

“No.” He replies, just as quietly. “I had some of the food I packed for the journey.” It’s a lie. He hasn’t really moved from this spot since collapsing down shortly after Merlin left. Again.

Merlin snorts. “Well, that’s a lie.” He immediately flushes red at his words. Arthur cocks a surprised eyebrow.

“How would you know? Have you need spying on me?” He asks, just wanting to see Merlin smile again. He gets rewarded for only a second. A small grin spreads across Merlin’s lips before he catches himself and lets it fall. Arthur’s heart sinks along with it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Merlin replies. “I just remember what you used to be like. Couldn’t function completely on your own.” Arthur cracks a half smile at that. Merlin isn’t exactly wrong. Since Merlin left, Arthur has been trying to figure out how he had lived without him for so long prior to meeting. He wants to tell Merlin that he needs him more that he could ever properly put into words, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know how. The words are lost to him, and the words to make Merlin believe it are even further out of reach.

“If you’re hungry, I have food inside.” Merlin offers, and Arthur’s heart twinges in his chest. This is more like the man he lost six months ago. Caring, and giving, and kind.

“No, but thank you.” He politely turns down the offer. He’s taken enough from Merlin without adding his food to the list. Merlin nods, but doesn’t get up to leave. He continues to stare at the fire, seemingly oblivious to Arthur staring at him. He can’t be, though. As much as Arthur always insulted him, Merlin wasn’t an idiot.

Another shiver wracks his body, and he pulls the blanket closer to his ears. He curls in on himself the best he can and shuffles as close to the fire as he dares. Merlin flicks his eyes to him contemplatively. Arthur shifts in his spot, not quite uncomfortable under Merlin’s gaze, but definitely unsure. For the second time that night, Arthur wishes that he could see into Merlin’s mind. Did Merlin find him pathetic? Stupid? Stubborn? Maybe he just found him weak, unworthy?

After a heavy sigh, Merlin says, “You can come in, if you like. It’s a little cramped, but at least it’s warm.” That familiar surge of guilt rushes to the surface. No matter what Merlin may think, he finds himself unworthy.

He gives Merlin a small, taut smile. “I think we would both be more comfortable if I were to remain out here.” Merlin looks at him impassively, not denying his words. Even though he was the one who spoke them, Merlin’s silent agreement with them still hurts. _I’m sorry, Merlin. I never wanted this to happen. If I could apologize with every breath, I would. Would you believe me if I breathed it directly into your lungs? Would you forgive me if I burned it into my skin?_

“Suit yourself.” Merlin says. He sounds empty. Mechanical. He, of all people, should never sound so hollow. “If we’re leaving at first light, I suggest you try to get some rest.” He says before rising to his feet.

Arthur stops him with a gentle, “Merlin.”

Merlin looks back silently, eyebrows raised as if to ask _‘Yes?’_

Arthur looks directly into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I ever actually said that.” Merlin flashes that small, brief smile again, then turns and once again heads inside. Arthur watches him go. That’s all he ever seems to do. Watch him leave while his heart breaks a little more inside his chest. It’s what he deserves. He stays by the fire, trying to find what Merlin had been looking at, until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He sinks into sleep, flames dancing and caressing softly behind his closed eyelids.

~~~

He wakes with a start the next morning, and for a second, he’s confused as to where he is. The events of the previous days slowly come back to his sleep addled brain, and he sits up. The fire has burned down to nothing but ash beside him. The horses are happily munching on something, Arthur has no idea what, and Merlin is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’s still inside.

He body protests slightly as he slowly gets to his feet. With a groan, he stretches his muscles, rolling his head to try and alleviate the crick in his neck. It doesn’t work, and he lets out another pitiful groan as he thinks about the looming journey back to Camelot. He is happy that he has successfully found a way to help save his people, but he would be lying if he said he was looking forward to the trip back with Merlin. Last night was painful enough. What are the next three days going to be like?

“If you’re waiting for me to get your horse ready, you’ll be waiting here for the rest of your life.” Merlin says from behind him. Arthur jumps slightly, not having heard him approach. Arthur opens his mouth to tell him off, but the words die in this throat as Merlin presses a bun and an apple into his hands before moving past him toward the horses. Arthur stares wordlessly down at breakfast in his hands before looking back up at Merlin.

Merlin has reached the horses by now, and Arthur stares in wonder as Merlin’s first real smile stretches over his lips. He’s petting his horse, murmuring fondly into its ear as he pets its nose. His heart stutters a beat as Merlin closes his eyes and rests their heads together. The morning light is making his dark hair shine, and highlighting his cheekbones. Arthur looks away so his treacherous lungs can fill with air again.

He avoids looking at Merlin as he grabs his blanket off the ground and shakes the dirt and leaves off of it. He rolls it up messily, then follows Merlin to the horses. Merlin is getting his horse ready, still talking to it in hushed tones. As Arthur gets closer, he hears his name roll easily off Merlin’s tongue, and he hesitates. What is he saying? Is he complaining? Insulting him? Admitting to his mount that he wished they’d never met?

Arthur clears his throat loudly as he starts moving again, announcing his presence to his companion. Merlin abruptly cuts off his one-sided conversation and looks up. Is that guilt written across his features? Arthur looks away to focus on his own horse without comment. After a moments pause, Merlin continues on in silence. It’s an awkward silence, oppressive and suffocating. Arthur mourns for the easy comradery he and Merlin used to share.

“We’re a three days ride from Camelot.” He says as he cinches up the saddle on his horse’s back. “If we’re lucky, we won’t run into trouble on the way back. We can stop in Ealdor if you’d like. You can see your mother.” He adds. Merlin doesn’t reply for a minute or two.

“That would be nice.” Merlin says quietly. There’s something else lurking in Merlin’s tone, but Arthur can’t quite make out what it is. He doesn’t say anything else, no neither does Arthur. He wants to. God knows he wants to. He wants to ask Merlin what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. Is he excited to see his friends back in Camelot again, or is he scared of facing them after he left? Had he said goodbye to them, or had he simply vanished?

Once all his things are lashed back onto the saddle, and his sword is once again sheathed on his horse’s shoulder, he looks at Merlin. Should he offer to let him stay? Give him a way out should he want one? Would his heart live through Merlin agreeing to stay if that was his decision?

“What?” Merlin says, eyes still focused on looking over his own tack. He looks over his shoulder at Arthur once he’s satisfied. Arthur flushes slightly at having been caught staring.

“Nothing.” He says, quickly looking away. He hears Merlin huff in annoyance, and mutter what sounds like _‘typical’_ under his breath, but he doesn’t defend himself. He’s too selfish to give Merlin one last chance to stay behind in this new life. He’s too lost in his own new life, too desperate for his old one back, to risk Merlin not accompanying him back to Camelot.

“Let’s just go.” He says flatly. “The longer we sit around here, the less time we will have to stay in Ealdor.” He swings up into the saddle, shifting so he’s comfortable. Merlin does the same, apparently deciding to drop the subject and just let Arthur have his way. Arthur finds himself somewhat surprised. After all, Merlin never was one to just do as he’s told.

They start off in silence. Arthur leads them roughly back the way he came, towards the small village. Just as before, they’re forced to dismount and lead the horses through the thicker stands of trees.

“You couldn’t have picked a more accessible place to live?” Arthur grumbles as yet another branch scratches at his cheek. He pushes it aside in frustration. The journey through these trees the first time was bad enough. Going back through was proving to be just as slow, painful, and annoyingly never ending.

Merlin snorts. “Well, I couldn’t have everyone showing up on my doorstep. If I wanted to be left alone, I figured I had to make it difficult to get to me. Never thought I’d have to worry about ever leaving.” He replies, grunting as a branch catches on Arthur’s horse, then whips back to thump him in the chest.

“Didn’t keep me out.” Arthur mutters under his breath. Merlin apparently catches it though, cause he laughs.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting a stubborn clotpole like yourself to come looking.” He’s keeping his tone light, trying for levity, but Arthur can still hear the bitterness underlying his tone. He wasn’t expecting Arthur to come because he didn’t think Arthur cared.

“And yet, here I am.” He replies, almost cautiously. Merlin stays silent for a moment, and Arthur suddenly worries if he said too much, no matter how little he had actually said. He thinks he hears Merlin say _‘here you are’_ quietly behind his back, but he can’t be sure. He doesn’t bother to ask and verify. Instead, he continues soldiering on in silence.

Once the trees thin out enough, the two men climb back up into the saddle. The going is much easier now, and they reach the small village in under an hour. The citizens all peer out of their homes warily, watching Merlin ride in with distrustful eyes. Arthur wants to tell them to leave him alone, that he’s harmless, a good man, but he doesn’t. He never did speak up when it truly mattered.

“You found him.” The man from before says as he steps out into the sunshine. Arthur nods once. “I also see that you didn’t heed my warning.” He adds, glaring slightly at Merlin. Merlin frowns back.

“And what warning was that?” He asks. The man flinches at his voice, taking a step away from him. Arthur glances at Merlin and is surprised to see genuine hurt there. Before he can speak to defend his friend, the old man is talking again.

“You’re a sorcerer. The younger people in the world, those who have recently been exposed to free magic don’t see you for what you are. People like me, who grew up knowing magic was evil, can see the truth. You are dangerous. Nothing but pain follows you wherever you go.”

“That’s enough.” Arthur interrupts. “This man is a friend of mine, and therefore a friend of Camelot’s. I will not let you speak ill of him.” He says, glaring down at the old man, who is still staring at Merlin with disgust. “We merely rode here so I would be able to thank you for your help. Clearly, I shouldn’t’ve bothered.” He nudges his horse forward, not sparing the man a second glance. Merlin rides alongside him, face set in an impassive mask. Arthur can see through it. Barely, but just enough to know that the man’s words bothered him.

They ride in silence, once again awkward and drowning. Arthur wants to apologize for the man’s behaviour, but Merlin looks so... tired, that he doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make him feel better. _That man was wrong. Don’t you dare believe a word he said. You are not evil. You saved my life. You are not evil._

“Merlin.” He says, unsure what he’s going to follow up with. He needn’t have worried.

“Don’t.” Merlin mutters. “I just... leave it alone.” Arthur obeys. Grudgingly, but he obeys all the same. His silence only lasts another minute though. Apparently, he is unable to told his tongue sometimes.

“I just want you to know, that I don’t agree with that he said.” Arthur tells him. _You are not dangerous. I will always remember you as the clumsy boy who tripped over his own feet. The boy that risked his life time and again to save mine. Tell me, why was my life always so much more important than yours? What made me more special than you? He was wrong. The only pain you ever brought me was when you left. When you finally did as you were told. Never do that again._

“I said leave it, Arthur.” Merlin snaps angrily. Arthur keeps his mouth shut. The tense atmosphere shows no sign of lifting as Merlin nudges his horse faster, breaking into a trot and pulling ahead. As usual, Arthur watches him to. However, this time, he follows.

They ride in silence for several hours before Arthur’s stomach growls. “We should stop for a rest. Water the horses.” He suggests. Merlin nods in agreement, slipping from his horse without complaint. Arthur does the same, securing his reins to a nearby tree, loose enough for his mount to reach the lush grass should it choose to. Beside him, Merlin follows his actions.

“There’s a stream nearby. I’ll fetch the water.” Merlin offers, then disappears into the trees. Arthur watches his retreating back with mild concern. Surely if Merlin were going back, he would let Arthur know. Arthur’s worries only build when ten minutes go by, and still Merlin hasn’t returned. He’s contemplating going after him, when Merlin breaks through the trees, bucket of water in hand.

Merlin looks at him curiously. “Were you expecting me not to return?” He asks as he stops by the horses and sets the water down. Arthur shrugs as he straighten back up. “Don’t worry. I said I was going back to Camelot with you. I won’t go back on my word.” Arthur thinks there might be a backhanded jab in there somewhere.

They settle on the ground, not far from the horses, to eat a meagre lunch. Arthur pulls some bread from his saddle bag, looking at the rest and gauging how much he would need for the trip home. He may end up hunting for food. Merlin unpacks a bit of bread and cheese, breaking the block in half and offering it to Arthur. Arthur accepts it with a lump in his throat.

“How is everyone back in Camelot?” Merlin asks, eyes fixed on his lunch in his hands. He has yet to even take a bite.

Arthur pauses to think before answering. “Good.” He says. “Gwen and Lancelot are together and happy. Gwaine is as irritating as usual. Really, I can’t thank you enough for bringing him to Camelot.” Merlin laughs softly, making Arthur’s heart flutter a little. Such a self-betraying organ.

“I think you had just as much a hand in that as I did.” He replies, some of his old warmth seeping back into his voice. It helps in warming Arthur’s battered heart a little bit. “I am happy for Lancelot and Gwen. I always hoped those two would eventually find each other properly. At least someone finally got what they wanted.”

Arthur looks at Merlin, puzzled. What did he mean? He waits, hoping Merlin will elaborate, but he doesn’t. Secretly, he knows exactly how Merlin feels. He knows what it’s like to long for something, to ache for something, but never hold it in your grasp. To always watch it slip through your fingers, no matter what you do.

Merlin inhales sharply. “What about Gaius? How is he?”

Arthur sneaks a glance at Merlin out the corner of his eye. “He’s okay. He misses you. Worries about you. You were like a son to him. It hurt him, when you left. More than he lets on.”

“Not exactly my fault.” Merlin replies bitterly. Arthur physically reels back, ice once again closing back over his heart. Merlin’s moment of softness had clearly made him forget that things had changed.

“I know.” He says quietly. Merlin turns to him, like he’s going to apologize, but Arthur just holds his hand up, cuts him off. He doesn’t want Merlin’s apologies. Not when he deserves his harsh words, and more.

He eats in silence, keeping his eyes fixed on the horses to keep himself from looking at Merlin. He pretends that he’s keeping an eye on them, to make sure that they don’t get tangled in their reins. Merlin doesn’t try to talk again. He asks no more questions.

“We should go.” Arthur eventually says, once the horses seem to have been rested enough.

Merlin replies quietly, “Okay.” He gets to his feet, hovering for a moment as if thinking about offering Arthur a hand up. In the end, he decides to leave Arthur on the ground, going to the horses to get them ready to ride again. Arthur gets to his feet alone. Merlin is once again murmuring to his horse as he gets them both ready to go. Arthur is taken aback as Merlin leads them both over to meet him.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says as he hands Arthur his reins. Merlin climbs up on his horse and looks expectantly down at Arthur. Arthur almost blurts the words out. What words, he isn’t exactly sure, but he can feel them lurking just under the surface. Bubbling under his skin and wanting to slip out.

“Thank you, Merlin.” He says instead, swinging up into the saddle and looking away. They start off again in silence. It might be Arthur’s imagination, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as before. Or maybe it does, and Arthur is just painfully wishing that things could go back to normal. Things will never be _normal_ again.

His mind is weighed down by all the things we wants to say, but never will. He’s too much of a coward. He’ll never be good enough for Merlin. Not in this life, or the next.


	5. Chapter 5

They ride for as long as they can, Arthur wanting to push stopping to make camp as late as possible. The more ground they cover now, the sooner they will get back to Camelot. It isn’t until Merlin grumbles under his breath, so very reminiscent of how things used to be, _should be_ , that Arthur calls for them to stop and make camp. Merlin actually shoots him a grateful smile as he slips from his horse.

“I haven’t been on a horse for over six months.” He says, justifying his stiff and sore muscles. “I won’t be able to move by the time we reach Camelot.” Arthur merely chuckles, not commenting on how Merlin _almost_ said home instead. There was a brief moment of hesitation there where Merlin had stumbled between the two words. The thought makes him smile.

They both help equally to set up camp. Merlin insists on tending to the horses, claiming he had missed them. Arthur feels decidedly stupid for being jealous of a horse. He does his best not to show it, going about collecting firewood and trying to start said fire. If Merlin senses Arthur’s shift in mood, he mercifully doesn’t comment. He does, after several unsuccessful minutes, mutter a spell and start the fire himself.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur looks up. “You couldn’t have just done that from the very beginning?” He asks, somewhat annoyed. He gets a cheeky smile in return and suddenly forgets why he was irritated in the first place.

Shrugging, Merlin replies, “I don’t want to do all the work, you know. Besides, there is a certain kind of entertainment to be had watching you struggle over something so mundane.” Arthur throws a twig at him.

“Thanks.” Arthur says drily as he gets to his feet to pull food from his saddle bags. Merlin does the same, once again splitting his block of cheese in half to share with the king. Arthur, once again, takes it wordlessly. They share a simple smile before moving off to sit on opposite sides of the fire. Silence reigns over them as they eat.

A question that had been lingering in Arthur’s mind all day, rises to the surface and tumbles out of his mouth. “Are you nervous at all? To he going back?” He watches Merlin keenly over the flickering flames. They’re casting ever-changing shadows over his face that, in Arthur’s mind, make him look almost surreal. _Beautiful. You’re beautiful, Merlin._

Merlin stays silent, staring intensely at the flames as he slowly chews his mouthful. He’s stalling, that much Arthur can tell. He’s buying himself time as he thinks of an answer. That by now familiar jolt of sadness spears Arthur’s heart as he recalls a time when he would be able to read Merlin’s thoughts right off his face.

“Yes.” He finally says softly. Then he shakes his head. “No. Maybe. I—I don’t know.” He looks so lost, and it kills Arthur to sit and watch. “Only Lancelot knew about my magic, so maybe I’m just worried about what everyone else will think of me. I guess I’m just scared that they’ll see me as a monster. The enemy.” He turns his head to look away, but Arthur still catches the glistening of tears in his eyes. “I never even said goodbye. I was so... _hurt_ already that I couldn’t bear saying goodbye to everyone.”

Arthur pushes aside the ugly jealousy that rears up in his chest at the new knowledge that Lancelot knew about Merlin’s magic before he, himself, did. There was time later to pull that particular emotion out and deal with it. For now, Merlin needed his comfort, as useless as that may be. He at least owed it to Merlin to try.

“Merlin.” Arthur says softly, hoping to coax Merlin’s eyes back to his. When it doesn’t work, he sighs sadly. “No one is angry with you, and no one blames you. They understand why you left. I can assure you that there is no ill will there. No one sees you any differently than they did before. If their opinions had changed, would Lancelot and Gwaine have ridden out to search for you?”

Merlin looks up with misty eyes. “They did that?” He asks softly.

Arthur nods. “Yes. They were gone for at least two days. Clearly they missed your trail.” Merlin frowns and looks away again. “Merlin, everyone misses you. They all want you to come home. You’re their friend.” He assures him, hoping his words are doing at least a little to help in easing Merlin’s fears.

Merlin stays silent, choosing to finish eating instead of continuing to talk. Arthur doesn’t push him to add anything more. He is nearly overcome with the desire to sit beside him, pull him into his arms, and never let go until Merlin says he’s feeling better, but he controls the impulse. That would be very much unwanted, on Merlin’s part, and crossing so many boundaries that Merlin would probably just get up and make a run for it. Arthur didn’t want to risk having to track him down in the dark.

When he does speak again, it surprises Arthur. “What’s your new servant like?”

Arthur studies him for a silent moment, trying to figure out why Merlin wanted to know. Was he simply just curious? Was he looking for a weakness? Was he trying to figure out how much Arthur had changed? How quickly Arthur had replaced him? How easily he had moved on?

Arthur clears his throat roughly, surprised at how thick and choked it had become. “He is okay.” He ventures cautiously. “Pleasant enough to be around. Competent at his job. Does as he is told. A bit boring, to be honest.” He muses, looking thoughtfully at the glowing embers sitting at the edges of the flames.

Merlin hums. “So basically the complete opposite of me?” He asks. Again, Arthur stays quiet to think over his answer. Merlin clearly is looking for something, but is too afraid to outright ask it. Arthur wishes he knew what it was so that he could give Merlin the correct answer.

“Yes, I suppose so.” He says tentatively. Merlin hums again, nodding slowly. Arthur waits for more questions, but none come. He takes a deep breath, readying himself to ask why Merlin cares, but he never gets the chance.

“We should try to get some sleep. You said tomorrow we should make it to Ealdor?” He is looking at Arthur expectantly, and Arthur is almost feeling a bit of whiplash at the sudden topic change.

“Uhm... yes.” He says. Merlin nods and gets to his feet. He settles down on the ground where he had laid out his things. He doesn’t speak again. Arthur stares at him in confusion before doing the same. _Oh, how I wish I could read your mind. Get inside your thoughts and have all my answers. I wish you trusted me, as I still trust you._

~~~

Sleep is elusive for Arthur, and when he wakes the next morning, it is after only an hour or two of rest. He’s sluggish and grouchy, resulting in several nasty looks thrown his way from his companion. He tries to be in a better mood, he really does, but every time he closes his eyes, so much as _blinks_ , he is reminded of his nightmares. The feeling of Merlin’s hand slipping from his, of dark hair vanishing over the horizon and always just out of sight, no matter how fast he rides to catch up. His heart is still beating painfully in his chest at the memory.

He eats breakfast in silence, helps pack up their camp in silence, and gets his horse ready in silence. Merlin makes no attempt at initiating a conversation, but he does throw Arthur puzzled looks every now and then. Clearly, he had learned not to unnecessarily poke the bear when Arthur was in an unsavoury mood. He almost wishes that Merlin would, just so he had something else to focus his attention on. The fading feeling of Merlin’s skin on his from his dreams is plaguing his mind to no end. He needs a distraction.

“Are you excited to see your mother?” He asks as they both mount up. Merlin’s face contorts, almost as if he’s in pain, and Arthur immediately regrets the question.

Merlin glances at Arthur quickly before looking away and answering, “Sort of. Now that she knows what happened, I’m not entirely sure what to say to her.” There is genuine fear lacing his tone.

“I don’t think you need to worry, Merlin. She won’t hold it against you. I think she just wants to make sure that you’re okay.” He says, hoping his attempt at comfort doesn’t fall flat. Merlin looks like he’s torn between shrugging, rolling his eyes, and smiling. In the end, he chooses none of them and merely rides forward. Arthur follows, unsure of what the day would bring.

The morning is warm, a gentle and cooling breeze the only thing to take the edge off the sun’s strong rays. Arthur is immensely grateful that he had decided to forego his chainmail tunic and armour. The heat would’ve been unbearable. As it is, he can feel the sweat already starting on the back of his neck and rolling annoyingly down under his shirt. He knows that Merlin must be suffering the same fate, but he doesn’t complain about it. Not like Arthur’s silent complaints as he shuffles uncomfortably in the saddle.

He knows they are getting close to Ealdor. Certain groups of trees are familiar to him, since he had been through this way only a couple of days before. For some reason, the thought worries him. He trusts Merlin, knows that he will keep his word, and yet, a small part of him believes that Merlin will get to Ealdor and stop. He might decide to stay with his mother. Decide that family is more important than whatever Arthur is. Friend? Old employer? Random sovereign that he used to have some small shred of a loyalty to, but doesn’t anymore?

He doesn’t voice these thoughts, these insecurities, instead choosing to announce, “We should be there in another couple of hours.”

Merlin gives him a long-suffering smile. “I know. You’re forgetting that I have passed through here myself as well.” He has the audacity to follow up his remark with a smile that makes Arthur’s cheeks redden.

He retorts, “If you’re so smart, why have you been letting me lead us everywhere?”

There is a twinkle in Merlin’s eyes when he replies, “I had to let you feel as though you were contributing. As the king of Camelot, isn’t it your duty to always feel like you’re in charge?”

Arthur stares at him with wide eyes. He huffs out an incredulous laugh. He has no idea how to respond to that. It felt so unnervingly familiar that his insides are all twisted up and he can’t quite think straight. Merlin laughs beside him, a lovely and carefree sound that obliterates any coherent thoughts that Arthur may have managed to scramble back together. If he had to choose one sound to listen to for the rest of his life, it would be Merlin’s laughter in this very moment.

His face settles into a small smile as Merlin’s laughs slowly get under control. His eyes are softer then they’ve been since Arthur found him again, and Arthur tries desperately to memorize the sight, not sure how long it will last. He wants to say something, to keep the easygoing banter alive, but he can’t think of anything. Something that used to come so easily now feels infuriatingly out of reach. His mouth opens, and words tumble out before he even realizes that he’s getting ready to speak.

“I’ve missed this. Missed you.” He is shocked by the verbal admission. Merlin clearly is too, if the look on his face is anything to go by. Arthur quickly looks away, torn between embarrassment and being ashamed. Merlin doesn’t reply, and he isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse. He is sure that the next few hours will be the longest of his life.

~~~

They ride into Ealdor around midday. Merlin visibly brightens at seeing his old hometown. Arthur’s heart starts up a dull ache at the realization that Merlin has never been, nor ever will be, this happy and excited to see him. Several people stop what they’re doing, waving excitedly and calling out rather enthusiastic greetings. Merlin beams at the warm welcome.

“Merlin!” Merlin’s head snaps up at the sound of his mother’s voice. He breaks out into a toothy grin as he catches sight of her approaching. He jumps from his horse, rushing to meet her in a strong embrace. Arthur pointedly looks away, refusing to let himself ruminate over the fact that he didn’t receive a warm welcome himself. He has to remind himself that he hadn’t deserved one. He hadn’t done anything to make Merlin excited to see him again.

“I’ve missed you.” He hears Merlin say softly, and his heart cracks. He dismounts his horse, moving to grab Merlin’s. In his haste, he had simply left the poor thing standing uncertainly in the middle of the dirt track. He casts one last glance in Merlin’s and Hunith’s direction, then turns to lead the horses to water, bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

After the horses have both drunk their fill, Arthur pulls their saddles off. He knows that Merlin would like to visit with his mother, and he’s already decided to give Merlin as much time as he desires. Saddles are easy enough to put back on when they are ready to leave. He ties the horses’ reins near a lush patch of grass, leaving the saddles nearby. By the time he has finished, and turned to look back, Merlin and Hunith are nowhere in sight. They have surely gone back to their home to chat in private. Somewhere Arthur is surely not welcome.

He slowly wanders back into the heart of the small village, attracting more than just a few curious glances. He offers up unsure smiles as he goes, uncertain over whether these people view him as a friend or as an enemy. He wonders if he _should_ go find Merlin, but doesn’t get much past thinking about it when he is suddenly surrounded by a swarm of children.

“Excuse me.” A little boy with ginger hair and a ruddy face says.

Arthur smiles down at him. “Yes?” He asks.

The boy looks up at him with gleaming eyes. “Are you a knight?” The child asks. Arthur is taken aback for a moment, then smiles warmly.

“I am, yes.” He replies. The boy’s face lights up with awe as he shares excited looks with his small sized companions. “You know what else I am?” Arthur adds on, kneeling down so he can look the boy in the eyes properly. The boy shakes his head. “I’m a king.”

The boy gasps. “Really?” He asks, and Arthur nods solemnly, fighting his smile from his face. A frenzy of excited murmurs breaks out around him, and Arthur’s smile stubbornly sticks in place on his face.

“Would you come play with us?” A little brunette girl pipes up. Arthur has a moment of indecision. How on earth do you play with children?

“Of course.” He replies sincerely. The group cheers loudly, quickly running off toward the outskirts of the village. The two children who had, had the bravery to speak up, each grab a hand and tug. He gets to his feet and allows himself to get pulled along. This earns him several more surprised looks from the adults going about their business.

When they reach the rest of the group, a branch gets pushed into his hand. He only has a moment to grab it before they all rush him, flailing twigs of their own. He absolutely does _not_ squawk in surprise (thank you _very_ much) as he quickly fends off their varied attacks. For the most part, he allows them to swing at him, until his shins start to smart.

He takes his chance to relieve his poor legs by suggesting that he teach them how to be knights themselves. This elicits more excited cheers, and so, one by one, they line up and take their turns sparring with him. He goes as long as he can before he just gets too tired. The mental strain of the last couple days feels eerily familiar to that of an actual battle.

He sits down with an exhausted huff, despite the protests and groans from the children around him. “I’m sorry. Take pity on an old man. I don’t have your youth and energy anymore.” He jokes, falling backward into the dirt. The children all laugh and promptly climb on him.

Arthur _‘hmph’_ s as one of them jumps on his stomach, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s happy that he hasn’t eaten recently. A couple crawl over his legs, pinning them down and preventing any chance of an escape. A few more pile onto his chest and arms. His laugh turns into a grimace as one tugs on his hair. His hisses through clenched teeth, but let’s them have their fun.

The sun is burning red through his closed eyelids. He’s pretending to be dead as the kids crawl over and around him. The sunlight gets cut off as a shadow passes over his eyes, and for a moment, he thinks one of the children is responsible. When he cracks an eye open to look (he doesn’t want to get caught with his eyes open, he had already been chastised for that once and doesn’t want to repeat the process), he find Merlin.

Merlin is looking down at him with a smile that is so downright _fond_ that Arthur’s heart literally skips a beat. He looks like he’s struggling to hold back a laugh, and the thought of what he probably looks like has Arthur snorting out his own laugh.

“Okay, let him up. He has important king things to do.” Merlin says. The children all groan and whine, but do as they’re told. Once he is free, Merlin holds out a hand to help him up. Arthur takes it, skin instantly tingling and burning where it’s pressed to Merlin’s. He dusts himself off once he’s on his feet, smiling and waving to the kids as they dash off to go home.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Merlin says, smile evident even in the tone of his voice. Arthur huffs and looks away, cheeks red.

“They wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He lies.

Merlin’s smile breaks out into a full blown grin. “I bet.” He looks after the last of the group, now disappearing from view. “You made them really happy, you know? That was very kind of you.”

Arthur looks back at him, and catches the slight sparkle in Merlin’s blue eyes. “Did you have a nice chat with your mum?” He asks, changing the subject. Merlin immediately sobers and looks away. Arthur is left stumbling in his head, trying to figure out what he had said wrong.

“Yes, I did.” He replies quietly, like he’s holding something back. Arthur can’t even begin to guess what that could possibly be. “It was... helpful. Illuminating.” Merlin seems reluctant to discuss the topic any further, and Arthur knows that he should really respect that.

“What did you talk about?” He can’t help the question from slipping out. Why is it that he can only ever seem to refrain from speaking when he really ought to instead?

Merlin looks at him shrewdly before bluntly saying, “You.” Arthur’s jaw actually falls open slightly in shock.

“What about me?” He asks. Merlin doesn’t answer. He turns his back on Arthur and heads in the direction that Arthur had taken the horses earlier. Arthur is left reeling, watching Merlin walk away yet again. It takes him several minutes before he can even move to follow.


	6. Chapter 6

Silence is their only companion as they leave Ealdor behind. Merlin hasn’t spoken another word, but neither has Arthur. His head is buzzing, ears ringing, nothing but _you, you, you_ going through his head. What had Merlin meant by that? _You_. Had they discussed his shortcomings? Analyzed his failures? Pulled out every one of his flaws and picked them apart down to the smallest detail? _What had he meant by ‘you’?_

On several occasions, all within the span of approximately ten minutes, he had almost asked Merlin again what he had talked about. Every time, as soon as his mouth opened, the words failed to come out. It’s like he forgot how to speak suddenly. He would blame Merlin, accuse him of using his magic against him, but he knew better. Arthur never had been very good at talking. Especially not about the things that really mattered to him. He supposes he has his father to thank for that. Maybe. Maybe he really was just as useless as Merlin thought he was.

They had stayed in Ealdor for a little longer than Arthur would’ve really liked, but he doesn’t complain. He recognizes that Merlin had needed it. He’s seemed a trifle more relaxed since talking with his mother. Arthur is a little worried about that, considering their topic of conversation, but has enough sense not to bring it up. Instead, he keeps his mouth shut and just rides a little faster than he had on the journey out. The sooner he gets Merlin to Camelot, the sooner he doesn’t have to deal with his guilt and regret all by himself.

It’s about three-quarters of an hour later that Merlin breaks the silence. “Arthur?” He sounds cautious. Arthur feels a pang of unease in his stomach.

“Yes, Merlin?” He replies, keeping his eyes stubbornly set on the trail in front of them. They had slowed down somewhat by now, not wanting to risk injuring the horses over the more uneven terrain.

“I—I wanted to thank you.” Merlin says, making Arthur look at him in surprise.

“Thank me?” He questions. “For what?” He is genuinely confused. He honestly can’t think of a single thing that he’s done that deserves any kind or amount of gratitude whatsoever.

Merlin smiles weakly. “For letting me have time with my mother. I truly have missed her.” Arthur nods, understanding now. It wasn’t so much something Arthur had done himself, but rather something he had allowed Merlin to do. That made more sense.

“You don’t need to thank me, Merlin. Not for that.” He replies. Not when he still doesn’t fully believe that he deserves it. He still has so many things to atone for. Many bad decisions, and many mistakes.

“No.” Merlin argues. “I do. You could’ve just drug me straight to Camelot without stopping, which would’ve made more sense considering it’s in danger again.” He says. “Or, you could’ve cut my time there short, given me a time limit, but you didn’t. You let me have as much time as I wanted. So, thank you.”

Arthur looks at Merlin with dull eyes. He doesn’t regret giving Merlin what he wanted. He really doesn’t. However, something about their stop in Ealdor has set him on edge. Something about it has planted something painful in Arthur’s chest, and he can already feel it taking root and trying to bloom it’s way into his heart. He grunts noncommittally. Merlin continues to study him.

“Why did you let me stay there as long as you did?” He asks. Arthur struggles to think of a reply that isn’t, _‘Cause I wanted to make you happy’._ It’s appearing to be frustratingly difficult to do so. That blossom in his chest is rapidly growing in size.

“Why do I need a reason?” Arthur counters, desperate to get out of the situation. Merlin purses his lips, his brow creasing in a frown.

“I suppose you don’t.” Merlin muses, but he doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Arthur doesn’t either.

Arthur heaves a sigh. “I guess it just felt like the right thing to do. You clearly had some things to discuss, to get off your chest, and who was I to get in the way of that?” He’s surprised at how bitter he sounds. Merlin himself looks a little taken aback. His cheeks have coloured slightly. Is that shame? Embarrassment? Annoyance? Anger?

“Arthur.” Merlin signs, clearly having read into what Arthur had said. Arthur doesn’t even know why he’s so upset that Merlin won’t just talk to him. Maybe he has a right to know what his old manservant was saying about him, but maybe he had also relinquished that right when he had ordered said manservant to leave.

“It’s fine.” Arthur says, in a voice that clearly says that it _isn’t_ fine. “I get it, okay? These last six months, you haven’t had anyone to talk to about what happened. Given the chance, I would want to do the same. You don’t need to explain yourself.” He does his best to keep his voice as solid and steady as possible. He only sort of succeeds.

Merlin inhales slowly, letting it out as equally slow before speaking. “You’re right. I did want to talk to someone. I’ve been bottling up so many things since that day, and I needed to let them out. Seeing you again just made so many things hurt again and... I appreciate you giving me the chance to spend time with my only family.”

The words _‘only family’_ send a sharp pain coursing through Arthur’s veins. He almost gasps out loud at how acutely it hurts, but stifles it successfully. He firmly believes that at one point, Merlin considered his friends in Camelot his family. Gaius, and Gwaine, and Lancelot. Even Guinevere. Now, thanks to Arthur and his stupid decisions, he no longer feels wanted there. Everything that has happened, to everyone, these last six months, is all Arthur’s fault. By hurting Merlin, he indirectly hurt so many people. The realization would be strong enough to bring him to his knees, had he not been on horseback.

Merlin seems to pick up on Arthur’s sudden shift in mood. “I didn’t mean—“

Arthur cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s fine.” He barely recognizes his own voice. “I understand. No need to explain yourself.” The ground has evened out some, so he pushes his horse up into a trot, just wanting to get away from the conversation, and the sharpness of Merlin’s words, not matter how unintentional they may be. He hears Merlin sigh quietly behind him before speeding up himself.

As silence once again envelopes the pair, Arthur gets lost in his thoughts. At least he has some idea now of what Merlin and Hunith had discussed. Arthur had only given Hunith an abbreviated version of what he had done to Merlin, and he only had his side of events, and his own perspective. Surely Merlin had brought new facts to the table, shed light on things that Arthur didn’t even know about. He shudders to think what Hunith must think of him now.

Merlin keeps giving him sidelong glances, but he refuses to meet the other man’s eyes. He’s scared of what he’ll see there. He’s a coward, and he knows it. He’s so desperate to know what Merlin is thinking, but refuses to take the leap and find out. Refuses to let Merlin explain himself. Is it considered cowardly if you’re only protecting your own heart? He doesn’t think he could withstand hearing Merlin tell him that he no longer cares about him, or looking into his eyes and seeing pity and hatred. Is it cowardly to knowingly remain ignorant?

Despite his obvious desire to be chatty and justify himself, Merlin let’s the quiet be. Every time he inhales, Arthur tenses. He doesn’t relax until Merlin let’s the breath out in defeat. The only sounds around them are that of the horses, and that of the life going on around them. Birds singing in the trees, leaves rustling in the wind. If Arthur closes his eyes, he can almost kid himself into thinking everything is fine. When Merlin closes his eyes, does he picture himself back at his cottage?

The sun is getting low, halfway between the horizon and the middle of the sky, before either of them dare break the tense silence again. “We should probably start thinking about making camp.” Merlin says.

Arthur looks up at the clouds and hums. “We still have another hour or so before then.” He replies. He’s hesitant to settle down too soon. At least if they’re riding, they have something other than each other to focus on.

“The horses might like a break soon.” Merlin adds. Arthur feels himself frown. Still, he refuses to look at his companion.

“I’m sure the horses are okay. They had more than enough break in Ealdor.” He says with finality. He is the king, and if he says they are to keep going, then they will. Still, he knows Merlin is unlikely to back down that easily.

Sure enough, Merlin huffs, “Okay, fine. I need to stop soon, all right? Like I said before, I’m it used to being on a horse this long anymore. I’m sore and tired.” He sounds grouchy and irritated. Arthur forces himself to finally look back at Merlin, and sure enough, he looks exhausted. Physically and mentally. Arthur bites his lip.

“Fine. When we find a suitable place to make camp, we will. We’ll want to find somewhere to give the horses water.” Merlin looks grateful at Arthur’s words, but doesn’t smile, or nod, or even speak. Arthur keeps a lookout as they ride, and catches the hint of running water in the distance. He steers his horse in that direction, leading them both to a small stream cutting through the trees. The water in the little brook is bubbling and skipping over rocks, almost _happy_ in its sounds and appearance, and it’s such a contrast to how Arthur feels that the sight actually makes him feel more subdued.

He jumps off his horse, landing with at least a little grace and poise, as Merlin slides off his own mount tiredly. Merlin doesn’t offer to look after the horses himself, so Arthur starts pulling his saddle off his horse himself. The heat from the day has left sweat over the horse’s coat, and Arthur feels a little guilty. Perhaps he should’ve been less focused on himself and given his horse more breaks.

After securing the reins to a branch, Arthur kneels by the water, using his cupped hands to scoop up some water. He carries it over to his horse nearby and lets it go over its back. After a couple more trips, he uses his fingers to rub the water into the horse’s hair, trying to wash the worst of the sweat out. As he reaches a certain spot, it bobs its head appreciatively. He rinses his hands off in the stream, wiping them dry on his trousers, when he’s finished.

He leaves Merlin to look after his own horse as he goes off in search of firewood. It takes longer than he’d really prefer, but when he heads back to their camp, he has a decent sized armful of fallen branches and broken twigs. His eyes take in the two bedrolls laid out near the horses, and he lifts raised eyebrows at Merlin. Merlin shrugs.

“You were busy, and I was done with the horse, so I unpacked your stuff.” He says. Arthur has to take a deep breath, remind himself that things are different now. Merlin wasn’t helpful because it was his job, or because he wanted to be. He was helpful because there was nothing else for him to do. Arthur can’t think of anything to say, so he just steps closer and puts his load of firewood down.

Merlin watches as Arthur piles some branches up, arranging them the best way to catch a spark and stay alight. He never has a chance to even try to light the thing. Merlin rests a hesitant and tentative hand on his arm.

“Let me.” He offers, not bothering to wait for a response before uttering a spell and watching the flames burst to life.

“Thank you.” Arthur mumbles, eyes still fixed on Merlin’s hand resting on his arm. Merlin’s eyes follow his gaze, and he quickly snatches his hand away, like he’s been burned. Arthur look away. Was touching him really that horrible and painful for Merlin? He doesn’t ask, and Merlin doesn’t try to offer up an explanation.

When they each pull out their food this time, Merlin doesn’t offer to share. Something about that fact makes Arthur feel even more morose. He settles down on the ground, on the opposite side of the fire from Merlin, and picks at his food. He hasn’t eaten nearly enough these last few days, wanting to draw out his food supply as long as possible, but he still doesn’t seem to have an appetite. After several minutes of staring, Arthur finally sighs, then gets to his feet to replace his food in his bag. No point wasting it when he’s not hungry.

He turns back to the fire, and catches Merlin’s eyes on him. He expects Merlin to look away once he’s been caught staring, but he doesn’t. He holds his gaze steady, like maybe he’s trying to read Arthur mind, and if he so much as blinks, the connection will be lost.

Arthur grits his teeth. “What?“ He asks, a little more aggressively than is necessary.

“Nothing.” Merlin replies breezily, eyes shifting back down to the dirt around the perimeter of the fire. Arthur glares at the top of his head.

“Whatever.” He mutters, returning to his previous spot near the fire’s edge. Despite the heat during the day, the night was quickly losing its built up warmth. Autumn as fast approaching, Arthur realizes. There were a million different things he had to do to get Camelot ready for winter.

“Tomorrow we reach Camelot?” Merlin asks, voice quiet but still somehow sounding loud in the darkness quickly falling around them. Arthur looks up and meets Merlin’s eyes.

“Yes.” He replies tiredly. “I’m hoping we covered enough ground today that we get there in good time tomorrow. The sooner we get brought up to speed on what’s been happening in my absence, the better.” He watches with interest as Merlin blushes slightly.

Ducking his head, Merlin mumbles, “Sorry.”

A confused frown creases Arthur’s face. “What for?” He asks. Merlin looks up again and shrugs.

“For needing to stop so early.” He says, somewhat embarrassed. “We could’ve gone farther if it wasn’t for me.” He adds, and now he sounds decidedly embarrassed. Arthur waves his concerns off.

“It’s not a problem. We will still reach Camelot tomorrow. If it is later than I wished, it’s not the end of the world.” At least, he _hopes_ it’s not the ends of the world. He doesn’t add that on, not wanting to make Merlin feel any worse than he apparently already does.

Merlin let’s out a slightly shaky breath. “I think I’m excited to see everyone tomorrow.” He says softly. “I’ve missed my friends. It will be nice to see them all again.” He sounds wistful. Arthur is painfully aware that he is not included in that group of people. Merlin must see the pain in Arthur’s eyes, cause when he looks up and their eyes meet, hurt flickers across his face.

Arthur swallows thickly. “And they are all excited to see you.” He assures Merlin. “They might make me host a feast just in your honour.” He means it as a joke, but Merlin just looks away. Arthur sighs and moves to put more wood on the dying fire. Merlin looks back, eyes glowing gold for a moment before the fire rises higher, nearly obscuring Arthur’s view of him.

The fading sounds of birdsong and buzzing insects die down as the sun completely fades. Arthur is still not tired. Well, he’s actually exhausted, but his mind isn’t tired. He has a sinking feeling that sleep will once again be out of his grasp tonight.

“We should probably get some sleep.” Merlin’s voice, breaking through the relative silence, makes Arthur jump slightly.

“Probably.” He replies. Neither one makes a move to get up. They both continue to stare sightlessly into the orange flames. Eventually, Merlin rises to his feet. Arthur’s eyes betray him as they follow his movement, watching him intently as he stretches slightly and moves to lie down. Arthur really should do the same, he just can’t seem to make his body cooperate and actually move.

He’s doesn’t know how much time passes before he eventually can move. The fire has died down significantly, and the cool bite in the air is making him shiver. Merlin’s soft and even breathing is one of the only sounds Arthur can hear, and it’s soothing. It’s almost bordering on peaceful. Arthur wishes that he could see the other man’s face. Does he look as peaceful as he sounds? Is his face devoid of the worries and pain still clearly plaguing him?

He carefully gets to his feet and moves to his own bedroll, treading lightly to avoid waking Merlin up. He needs his rest. He sinks down onto the hard ground, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. Lying on his back, he stares up at what bits of the sky he can see. A few stars are out, dotting the sky and breaking up the endless black. He kind of feels like one of those stars. Alone. Isolated. Lost in a sea of almost nothing.

Merlin shifts in his sleep, sighing slightly. Arthur’s eyes snap over to him, look him over longingly. If only Arthur could tell him how important he was. How much he means to him. How much he desperately needs him back in his life. His eyes cloud over with tears, and he struggles a hand out to wipe at his face. A king does not cry, for God sake.

“Merlin.” He breathes, so softly that had Merlin been awake, he would’ve probably barely heard him. He watches the man in question sleep peacefully for a moment before continuing. “I know I’ve said it before, but I am truly sorry for what I did to you. I wronged you in a way I can never fully right. I hurt you when you were most vulnerable, turned you away when you most needed help, and for that, I will never forgive myself.”

He pauses to swallow. “It is true, that I had been reluctant to come and find you, that Gwen and the knights had to convince me that it was the best course of action to take, but that is only beside I was scared. I was scared to face you again. Terrified that you would turn me away, as I did to you.

“You are so important to me, Merlin. I never want you to question or doubt that. It killed me when you left. I hated myself for it. I still do. I promise you that you were never replaced. You never could be replaced, not to me. Not ever. I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted you, and counted on you, the most out of everyone I know. I broke that trust with you, but I want you to know that it’s still true. You are still the person I consider to be the closest to my heart.

“I know I’m a coward for not being able to say this to you while you’re awake to hear it. I know what you must think of me. But I also know that I can’t live without you, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for everything I put you through. I promise.”

He has tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He rolls over onto his side, so his back is to Merlin. His heart can’t bear the sight of him any longer, so close yet to eternally out of reach. As he lies there, shaking, he finally admits to himself that which he never could. He loves Merlin. He’s in love with Merlin. A new thing to add to the list of words that will never be said out loud where they might be heard. With his back turned, he doesn’t see Merlin open his eyes and look at him tearfully.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur rises with the sun the next morning, groggy and sleep deprived. At first glance, Merlin looks like he’s still asleep. Upon closer inspection, however, Arthur can see him blinking blearily up at the tree tops above them. Arthur grunts something that was supposed to be a _‘good morning’_ but comes out rather unintelligible instead. The sound makes Merlin glance at him, but he quickly diverts his gaze. He’s progressed to not even being able to _look_ at Arthur only overnight?

Ignoring the now constant dull ache in his chest, Arthur slowly gets to his knees. His vision swims slightly and he shakes his head to rid himself of the sensation. He still isn’t feeling particularly hungry, despite not eating the night before. The anxiety that has balled up in his stomach is probably to blame for that. Deciding to forego breakfast, he gets to his feet fully and starts to pack up his bedroll. He hears movement behind him, but doesn’t look back at Merlin. He doesn’t know what he did for the man to suddenly not even be able to stand the sight of him.

He hears the rustling of a bag being dug through moments before a hand lands on his shoulder. “You need to eat if you want to make it back to Camelot today in one piece. I’m sure not gong to carry you.” Merlin’s voice sounds in his ear as some bread and meat are brought around in front of him.

Arthur wrinkles his nose slightly at the sight of the meat. “It’s been two days, how is that still any good?” He finds himself asking. Merlin snorts behind him.

“I enchanted it, Dollophead. It won’t go bad. Now eat.” He presses it into Arthur’s hands, then disappears. Arthur stares at the food stupidly. He feels like he’s missing something important.

He chances a glance over at Merlin. He’s chewing a mouthful of his own breakfast as he packs his things up. They share brief eye contact, and his confusion grows exponentially as Merlin gives him a small, barely there smile. He doesn’t smile back. His brain has apparently forgotten how to do anything other than stare mutely at things.

Merlin swallows his mouthful. “Eat, Arthur.” He orders before once again turning his back. Surprisingly, Arthur finds himself doing as he’s told, arms lifting his serving of bread and meat to his mouth by sheer muscle memory. He continues to watch Merlin bustle around their little camp as he eats, his brain now apparently only able to do one thing at a time. He can’t even attempt to pack up his own things until he’s finished. By that time, Merlin has his horse almost ready to go.

Merlin shoots him an odd look. “Is everything okay, Arthur?” He asks when he spots him only just now moving to his horse.

Arthur nods. “Yes.” He replies hesitantly. “Though I suppose I could ask you the same question. Did something happen last night? You seem more... lively today than you have been.” He settles suspicious eyes on Merlin as he hefts his saddle into his arms. Merlin pales slightly, then blushes. He vehemently shakes his head.

“No.” He says. “Nothing happened. I’m just eager to get going is all.” He replies, but he sounds like he’s lying.

“Merlin.” Arthur says, levelling unimpressed eyes on the man over the back of his horse. “For someone who lied for years about having magic, you really are an atrocious liar. Now tell me the truth.”

Merlin winces and looks away, shrugging. “That is the truth.” He mumbles. “I have a lot of people to see, don’t I? The sooner I start on the reunions, the sooner all the awkward conversations will be over.”

Arthur continues to stare shrewdly at Merlin as he pauses what he’s doing. “Right.” He draws out the word slowly. Merlin still can’t quite meet his eyes. “We best be on our way then.” He adds, deciding to drop the subject. There is something Merlin isn’t telling him, but it’s not like he’s not used to that, by now. If Merlin wants to keep his secrets, there is little Arthur can do about it.

Merlin gives him a grateful look as he busies himself fussing over his horse’s tack. Arthur makes quick work of getting his own mount ready. Once all their things are safely secured to the backs of their saddles, they both climb up and settle on their horses’ backs.

“We’re getting an early start, so hopefully we will reach Camelot before nightfall.” Arthur says as they ride away from their camp. “The horses should be well rested, so we should be able to ride a little faster today.” He adds. He knows these parts around Camelot very well, and is confidant in their ability to set a faster pace through the trees. All he gets in answer from Merlin is a nod of his head. With a confused frown firmly in place, he urges his horse forward, heading for home.

They make good times, varying their pace to allow the horses some respite. They stop only once in the morning to give their mounts a true break, offering them water. After a ten minute rest, they continue on their way, not stopping again until about midday, when Merlin asks to stop.

They day is once again hot, and Arthur is secretly glad for the break, and the shade, as he dismounts. He loosens his horse’s cinch, tying the reins to a nearby branch. Merlin does the same before sprawling on the ground wearily.

“I’m not going to be able to move for a week.” He complains, eyes closed against the sun’s rays. Arthur snorts and nudges his knee with his booted toe.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Merlin.” He teases. Merlin blindly swats at his foot, managing to connect successfully with his ankle. Arthur smiles, but stops annoying the other man. After all, they are still far from being friends again. Anymore. Arthur isn’t sure. He’d like to hold out hope that they can once again be as close as they once were, but he also knows that it’s hope that will ultimately kill his heart in the end if he isn’t careful.

Merlin cracks an eye open. “Just give me a few minutes to rest and I’ll be good to get back on.” He must’ve had a rather sleepless night as well, because his voice is thick with exhaustion.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Arthur warns. Merlin waves a lazy hand in a vague gesture that Arthur supposes is meant to mean _‘no worries’._ It doesn’t instill much faith in Arthur’s mind. Still, Arthur allows Merlin to lie in the dirt for as long as he possibly can. Even just casually resting, Merlin looks peaceful. When the shadows start to shift, Arthur nudges Merlin in the ribs. Merlin groans.

“Get up, Merlin.” Arthur orders. “We’ve stayed here too long as it is. Camelot is still several hours away.” He watches fondly as Merlin scrunches his nose up in distaste. He does, however, eventually open his eyes and struggle tiredly to his feet. He waves off Arthur’s offer to help, insisting that he’s fine. Arthur backs off, instead going to his horse to ready it for the final journey home.

He is feeling unpleasantly anxious. The future is so uncertain still. Will Merlin stay after helping them protect Camelot? Or is he going to leave as soon as his services are no longer required? It pains him to think of Merlin leaving again. He should probably, _definitely_ , talk to Merlin about it, but he won’t. He knows he won’t. What happens if Merlin confirms his fears? It’s better, he decides, to not know beforehand.

Both men are lost in thought as they continue on. Arthur is well aware of Merlin’s eyes lingering on him, but whenever he gives in and looks over, Merlin is looking off in the other direction. That feeling of missing something is still very prominent in his mind, and it’s driving him slightly mad. It’s like an itch he can’t scratch. He wants to ask about it, but he knows that he probably wouldn’t even get an answer, so he doesn’t bother.

Just as he predicted, the sun is only just starting to dip closer to the horizon when Camelot comes into view. For the first time in six days, Arthur feels something other than the crushing weight of what he had lost. Merlin looks apprehensive, but makes no comment as they ride steadily closer. Arthur almost says something, perhaps something to comfort or ease Merlin, but bites his tongue. His words mean nothing to Merlin.

Curious citizens poke their heads out of their homes as they ride into the city. Arthur smiles at them all, just relieved to finally be back. The pair of them leave excited whispers in their wake. Clearly, Merlin was more well known amongst the citizens of Camelot than he had originally thought. The guards see them coming as they reach the citadel, and send two to inform Sir Leon, whom Arthur had left mostly in charge, of their arrival. As they ride into the courtyard, Merlin’s anxious look melts into a pleased smile. All his friends are waiting for him, to welcome his home.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls, stepping forward to pull Merlin into a warm hug as he half falls from his horse. Merlin actually laughs happily as he embraces him back.

“Hello, Gwaine.” He mumbles, voice muffled where it’s buried in his friend’s shoulder. There are happy tears in his eyes as they pull apart.

Lancelot pulls him into a hug next, grinning as he says, “It’s so good to see you.” Merlin murmurs something that Arthur doesn’t catch as he hugs him back. He feels a spear of jealousy pierce his heart. Gwen catches his gaze, a knowing look in her eyes, and Arthur hastily looks away. He ignores Merlin getting passed around for hugs as he dismounts and fiddles idly with his horse’s reins.

“My Lord?” He jumps at his manservant’s voice. He looks beside him to find the man standing there, looking unsure as he reaches for the horse’s bridle. He mutters an apology under his breath and steps back, watching his shield walk away forlornly. Now there was nothing separating him from looking at Merlin currently hugging Gwen tightly. She’s murmuring in his ear, and something nasty unfurls in his chest.

“Let’s take this inside.” He says gruffly. “We need to be brought up to speed.” He catches his knights and Gwen sharing a look as he passes them by. He doesn’t stop to analyze it, though. He just wants to get this all over with.

He takes the steps two at a time, satisfied at the sounds of footsteps following him up. His mind is already racing with potential fixes to this new threat as he makes his way inside. The sooner he gets all the facts, the better. Arthur leads the group to the round table without even realizing that he’s doing it. He sinks heavily down into his usual seat, body suddenly exhausted. His lack of sleep is finally starting to show now that he is home and the adrenaline of the journey has worn off.

His knights file in behind him, along with Merlin and Gwen. Arthur idly watches them as they all take a seat. He notices that Merlin sits beside Gwaine, as far away from himself as he can. He struggles to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth that this produces. He has to look away as Gwaine leans over to say something quietly into Merlin’s ear, making the latter burst out into hastily stifled laughter. He misses the guilty look that Merlin casts his way.

Clearing his throat, Arthur calls everyone to attention. “Now, as you can see, I was successful in bringing Merlin back. He has agreed to help us in any way we need him to. I have filled him in briefly on what has been happening, but as I haven’t seen anything firsthand, I am relying on you to fill him in better on what we are dealing with. Once we know that, we will want to come up with a plan. Is it better to launch a proactive attack on whoever is behind these events, or is it better to sit and wait to see what they are planning to do?”

That strange look filters around the table again. Arthur watches it happen curiously. What are they hiding? Merlin seems to have picked up on it too, because he’s looking around at the rest of them quizzically. Arthur sighs and closes his eyes. Whatever it is, he fears that he is about to get the worst headache of his life. Before he can ask what it is that they’re hiding, Merlin speaks up.

“What is it?” He asks, looking around at his friends. Lancelot turns a guilty look his way. The look in his eyes fills Arthur with sudden dread.

“We may have embellished the truth a bit, Merlin.” He admits sheepishly. Merlin looks confused, as confused as Arthur feels.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asks. It’s Gwaine who sighs and speaks up next. For the first time since meeting him, there is no hint of joking in his eyes.

“We mean, we lied in order to get you to come back home.” Gwaine says bluntly. Merlin looks shocked.

“Why?” He asks. He doesn’t look mad, but he does look tense, and that scares Arthur more. He looks just about ready to get up and run.

Lancelot starts up again when Gwaine shoots him a pleading look. “Because we missed you, and we wanted you to come home. You belong here, Merlin, no matter what happened to make you believe differently. We knew you wouldn’t come back without a push, though.” Lancelot has the good sense to look guilty.

“We really do feel rotten for lying.” Gwen says, looking at Merlin cautiously. Merlin’s eyes are starting to settle into something angry and hard, and Arthur’s insides twist.

“But,” Gwaine exclaims, leaning back in his chair and spreading his arms wide, “it worked, and you’re back where you belong. No harm done.”

Arthur nearly chokes. He was lied to by his most trusted knights. Manipulated into doing what they wanted. Granted, they wouldn’t’ve unless they thought it was for the best, but still. The entire room seems to freeze as Merlin slowly turns to meet Arthur’s eyes.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” He asks. His voice is steady, but deadly. No one speaks up, too afraid of the look on Merlin’s face.

“Leave us.” Arthur says, eyes never straying from Merlin’s face.

“Sire—“ Sir Leon pipes up, but Arthur holds up a hand to silence him.

He breaks eye contact with Merlin to look at him. “I will speak with you all after. For now, I need to speak with Merlin alone. Now go. All of you.” There are murmurs of assent and several worried looks as everyone obeys. Neither Arthur or Merlin speak until they are alone and the doors have banged shut. The sound reverberates loudly around the room.

“You knew about this.” Merlin repeats, but it isn’t a question this time. Arthur’s heart has started racing, panic building in his stomach.

“I didn’t.” He denies. Merlin scoffs. Of course he wouldn’t believe him. He watches in silence as Merlin gets to his feet and starts restlessly pacing the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. Merlin shoots a filthy look his way.

“You know what? I’m not even really surprised.” He says, voice slowly building up in ferocity.

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not surprised at what?” He demands.

Merlin stops to glare properly at him. “That you would lie to me just to get me back here.” He replies angrily. “To get me back where you can control me.” Arthur recoils at the words. Is that really how low of an opinion Merlin has of him?

“Merlin,” he bites out, “I did not know that the knights were lying. I had villagers come and speak to me. How was I supposed to know it was all a plot to get you back here?”

Merlin rolls his eyes, pushing off from the table where he had been leaning. “It was all part of your grand plan to manipulate me. Has anything you’ve said to me these past few days been real? Or has it all been a part of your lie?”

Arthur gets to his feet as well, heart pounding so hard in his chest that he’s surprised that Merlin can’t hear it. “I haven’t been lying to you. What could I have possibly gained from lying to you?” He shoots back in frustration.

“How am I supposed to know?” Merlin counters. “It’s not like you were ever completely open and honest with me. Maybe you wanted me close, seeing as I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world. You didn’t want to risk me falling in line with an enemy king.”

Arthur physically stumbles back at that. “Of course not!” He cries. “That’s just ridiculous.”

Merlin has tears building in his eyes. “Well, you clearly never trusted me. Why wouldn’t you want to keep me close, to keep an eye on me?”

Arthur starts to round the table, trying to reach Merlin, but Merlin rushes back away from from. He halts his movements. His blood is rushing in his ears. He has no idea what’s happening, or how to stop it.

“Merlin, please believe me.” He starts, but nothing else comes out.

“Believe what, Arthur?” Merlin demands. “After tossing me away so easily, how am I supposed to believe a word you say?” Arthur looks back at him helplessly, unable to think of a single thing to say that will get this conversation back on the rails. Merlin looks torn for a moment before squaring his shoulders and meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“Last night,” he starts, and Arthur pales, “was all that a lie, too? Did you know that I was awake, and knew that if you pretended to bear your heart that I would be more compliant? More willing to fall back into our old routine?” There is so much hurt in his voice and painted across his face. Arthur can’t speak for a moment.

“You heard all that?” He asks, voice caught between a croak and a wheeze.

“Yes.” Merlin states simply.

“Merlin,” he pleads, “none of that was a lie. You have to believe me.”

Merlin bites his lip and looks away. Arthur can feel his heart actively cracking in his chest. He can’t believe what he is seeing and hearing right now. Maybe it had just been his imagination, but he thought they had been making progress.

“I can’t.” Merlin breathes.

“Then why are you still here?” Arthur asks. Merlin gives him a startled look. “I am not telling you to leave, but if you cannot trust me then it is up to you to decide what you want to do.”

Merlin looks at him. “You won’t try to stop me?” He asks.

Arthur swallows. “Could I? We both know that I never had any control over you. Not really.” Merlin shakes his head and Arthur’s body goes completely numb. _Please. Please don’t go. Stay, stay, stay._

“Goodbye, Arthur.” Merlin breathes, and turns to go. He doesn’t pause at the door this time. Arthur’s heart is no longer breaking. Merlin had ripped it out and taken it with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry guys, I promise this has a happy ending!! (Gwen may or may not come to the rescue)


	8. Chapter 8

Gwen finds Arthur the next morning, slumped over the round table and fast asleep. He never even bothered to go back to his chambers after Merlin left, just sunk down into the first available chair and never moved again. Gwen gives the top of his head a sad smile as she slowly makes her way to his side. Even in sleep, the king look troubled, and broken, and lost. Sitting down next to him, she scoots her chair closer and rests her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

“Arthur.” She coaxes. Arthur groans and buries his head further into his arms. Gwen bites back a smile before shaking him again. “Arthur, wake up.”

The king reluctantly lifts his head, revealing tear stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His hair is mussed up, and Gwen can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or from Arthur burying his fingers in his restlessly. His eyes slowly come into focus as he blinks at her. She almost feels like crying herself when she sees how dead his eyes look.

“What is it, Guinevere?” He asks dully. Gwen purses her lips. She feels bad, but there is still a spark of hope there.

“I came to apologize.” She says. Arthur frowns and looks away. It hurt that they had all lied to him. It hurt even more that it had pushed Merlin away from him for good, and it wasn’t even his fault. Not really.

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m not really sure that I’m in the mood to hear it.” He says, resolutely looking away. He knows he should at least hear her out, but he doesn’t think he can really stomach her excuses at the moment.

Gwen sighs. “Please, Arthur. I’m sorry for lying to you, we all are.” She says anyway. “I want you to know that we only had your best interests in mind.”

Arthur snaps his gaze back to her sharply. “My best interests? How was lying to me, and sending me on a fool’s errand in my best interests? What have you truly accomplished with your lies?” He demands, his frustration and hurt over everything that has happened building up and starting to overflow.

“Yes, your best interests.” Gwen states calmly. How _dare_ she be so level-headed right now when Arthur himself didn’t even feel alive anymore.

Arthur huffs in annoyance. “And what exactly are these best interests that you speak of? Because I only see a mess.” His words make Gwen look away for a moment, ashamed. _Good_.

“I will admit that things didn’t exactly go as we planned.” She says. “We all knew that Merlin would be hurting as well, but I guess none of us expected him to blame you for lying about why you went in search of him.”

The king rolls his eyes. “Then you clearly never really knew Merlin.” He mutters bitterly. “But that didn’t answer my question. What supposed best interests of mine caused you to lie to me?”

Gwen bites her lip. “You miss Merlin terribly, we can all see it. The decision to send Merlin away was not an easy one, and it was clear that it was weighing on your mind. It was also clear that you were never going to do anything about it.”

“So you decided to butt in and try to help?” He interrupts. “Forgive me for saying that I think you have made things much worse.” He adds savagely.

Gwen drops her eyes to her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “I know, and I’m sorry.” She says meekly.

Arthur glares at her, but only for a second before his entire body slumps in defeat. “I should’ve stopped him, Gwen.” He breathes. “Six months ago, he gave me the chance to stop him, and I just let him leave. I was angry that he had been lying to me for so long. I was so blinded by hurt that I couldn’t even see why he had lied. I understand now. He lied to protect himself from me, and I still ended up hurting him anyway.”

He stops when Gwen reaches out to take his hands in hers. “I know you blame yourself, Arthur, but you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You did what you thought was best. You could’ve executed him, as the laws demanded, but you didn’t. Even then, you were trying to help him.”

“No.” He says forcefully. “Don’t try to justify what I did. It was unthinkable, and I will never forgive myself. You weren’t there, Gwen, you didn’t see his face. He was devastated that I was turning my back on him, and I did nothing. He is alone now, because of me. Any hatred I have for myself is earned, and I will not let it go because you think my actions are excusable.”

Gwen squeezes his hands. “You may have pushed him away, but you went back for him. It may have been a little overdue, but it still shows that you care.” Arthur frowns and pulls his hands away, not feeling like he deserves the comfort.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. Not to him. Not anymore.” He chokes out past the lump suddenly closing off this throat.

A sad smile spreads over Gwen’s face again. “I don’t think that’s true, Arthur.” She says softly. Arthur let’s out a humourless laugh, glancing at her briefly before turning his head away again to hide the tears in his eyes.

“You didn’t see the hatred in his eyes when I found him.” He says. “I am not forgiven, he made that painfully clear. He can barely look at me, let alone actually talk to me. He returned for his friends, for you and the knights, not for me.”

She reaches out to take his hand again, pulling his focus back to her. “I don’t think that’s true either, Arthur.” The look of utter disgust on Merlin’s face last night is still swimming in Arthur’s mind, and he lets out another sad, watery laugh.

“You didn’t see him last night either.” He remarks. Gwen makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, making him look at her curiously. “What?” He can’t help himself asking.

“I may have caught him on his way out last night, and he didn’t look like someone who had given up to me.” She replies warily. When Arthur doesn’t reply, she continues. “He said he was leaving, but I convinced him to at least stay long enough for me to talk to him.”

Arthur stares at her listlessly. “And?”

“And we did. We talked for hours, actually. About how the past six months have been for him. About why the knights and I did what we did. I explained to him that you’d had no part in it. He didn’t believe me at first, but I managed to make him see the truth. Then we talked about you. I know you won’t be happy about it, but I told him how you have been since he left. You may be able to pretend that you’ve been fine, but we’ve all seen different. You’re not the same man you used to be. You aren’t full of life anymore. You do your duty to your kingdom, and nothing more. You used to have a sense of purpose, but I believe that Merlin inadvertently took that with him. We lied to you so that you could he happy again. Eventually, at least.”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at Gwen when he voices his next question. “Did he leave a message with you, for me, when he left?”

Gwen purses her lips. “No.” She says. Arthur nods, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn’t even deserve a note. Just a measly, sad _‘goodbye’._ “But,” she continues, “I know where you can find him.”

Arthur looks at her, shocked. “What?” He splutters, not really believing what he had just heard.

He watches, barely breathing, as Gwen smiles. “He never left, Arthur.” She tells him. “Last I saw him this morning, he was with the knights. Gwaine was saying something about showing him all the ways he could kill a straw dummy with your face on it.” She barely contains her laugh at the memory.

Meanwhile, Arthur is frozen in shock. Merlin hadn’t left. He had stayed. Had he chosen to stay for Arthur? Surely not. Perhaps this was his chance to finally make himself truly talk to Merlin. To properly tell him all the things he had so far been to afraid to speak out loud, for fear of being rejected.

“Go talk to him, Arthur.” Gwen urges. Arthur nods and shakily gets to his feet. He’s almost at the door when her voice stops him. “Make sure you tell him how you truly feel about him.” When Arthur just looks surprised, she laughs softly. “It may not be obvious to everyone, but it is to me. Tell him, Arthur. You might just be surprised.”

Arthur’s brow furrows in an unsure frown, and he doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes the doors open and strides out into the vast hallway. If Gwen saw Merlin with the knights, then surely they had taken him down to the training grounds. Arthur’s feet take him in that direction of their own accord, which Arthur is thankful for as it gives him a chance to think about what he’s going to say. He pauses by a window to glance out at the grounds below, and sure enough, Merlin’s there, surrounded by Lancelot, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, and Elyan. He had no idea they were all so fond of the boy.

He takes hurried steps through the castle, heart launching into his throat as he stops just inside the door that will lead him outside. He has to take several deep breaths to steady his shaking hands before he can push it open and step into the warm sunshine. The fresh air helps soothe his frayed nerves somewhat, and with a grim sort of determination, he confines on his way to the training grounds.

When the group comes back into view, they’ve changed positions. Elyan and Percival are lounging on the grass, laughing at something Leon had said, who was standing nearby. Lancelot was standing near a straw dummy, which thankfully _did_ _not_ have his face on it. He was pointing to various parts, apparently giving instructions to Merlin, who awkwardly held a sword in his hands. Gwaine, Arthur realizes with a surge of jealousy, is standing behind Merlin, chest pressed to his back and arms wrapped around him. His hands are over Merlin’s, helping his hold the sword and swing properly at the parts of the dummy that Lancelot is pointing to.

As he watches from a distance, having stopped approaching them, he catches sight of Merlin’s genuine smile. Maybe he should just leave them to it. Clearly he is far better off without Arthur’s presence or interference. Still, Gwen’s words are rolling around in his head relentlessly. His feet propel him forward without him consciously choosing to approach the group.

Sir Leon notices him first, his face immediately sobering. Lancelot notices and looks over to see what Leon was looking at, and instantly steps away from the straw dummy. Percival and Elyan notice him at the same time and scramble to their feet in unison. Merlin and Gwaine look over, and Merlin freezes while Gwaine just smirks. He slowly backs away, letting his hands trail up Merlin’s arms to his shoulders, where he offers a comforting squeeze before letting go and completely stepping away. He does so while maintaining eye contact with his king. Arthur fights back a frown.

“Gentleman.” He nods. There is a chorus of _‘my Lord’_ s and _‘Sire’_ s around the group. They all look guilty and terrified. Clearly they are afraid that he is there to pass judgement on them for plotting against him. He smiles at the thought, letting them stew in their uncertainty for another moment before speaking his true intentions.

“I hate to break up the happy reunion, but could I borrow Merlin for a moment? I would like to speak with him privately.” His eyes rove over the group before settling on Merlin unflinchingly as he finishes speaking. There is a moment of tense silence before Merlin nods wordlessly.

“Thank you.” He says, inclining his head slightly. “I will deal with you five later. Do not think you will get away with lying to your king so easily.” He gives them all pointed looks, and Gwaine groans loudly in protest. Arthur has to turn his back to hide his smile. Merlin appears at his side, looking unsure. “We will go to my chambers. We will not be disturbed there.”

He leads the way, very cognizant of Merlin following a few steps behind. He steps into his chambers, closing the door securely behind Merlin. He stays facing the door for a moment as he struggles to gather his thoughts. His mind is a jumbled up mess, and he has no idea where to even start. When he turns to face the room, Merlin is watching him expectantly. He spreads his arms wide.

“You wanted to talk?” He says, voicing it like a question.

“I—yes.” Arthur replies, now feeling terrified at the conversation that they are about to have. Merlin lifts an eyebrow, as if to say, _‘Well, I’m waiting.’_

Arthur takes a deep breath. “For starters, I guess I need to say I’m sorry. I know I have said it before, and you probably still don’t believe me, but it is the truth. I am sorry for so many things, Merlin. It would take all day just to make them all.” Merlin’s lips press into a thin line, making Arthur’s heart pound more forcefully in his chest.

“I also want to say that I wasn’t lying about my reasons for coming to find you. I assure you that I had no idea that I was being used as a pawn to bring you back to Camelot. Had I known, I would have told you and let you decide for yourself whether to come back with me or not.” He continues.

Merlin nods at this. “I know. Gwen explained the whole thing to me. I owe you an apology for accusing you of lying to me.” He looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes Arthur feel sick.

“You owe me nothing, Merlin.” He says, brushing the other man’s words aside. Merlin opens his mouth to protest, but Arthur doesn’t let him. “I do not blame you for assuming the worst of me, Merlin. I have given you every reason to do so.” Merlin’s mouth closes, possibly in silent agreement.

“Now, I know that no words can fix the wrongs I have done to you, but I need to let you know anyway that I regret my actions. I cannot let my own fears and insecurities as a king justify banishing your from your home. You have proven over and over again that you deserve to live here just as much as I do. Your loyalty went above and beyond that which it should have, and I refused to acknowledge it. You did not deserve what I did to you, and no amount of apologizing will ever make me feel any better about that.”

Merlin’s face contorts slightly. “I know why you did it. Your whole life you had been told that magic was evil. The only magic you ever encountered was always by the hands of bad men, who used it for harm. You were scared, and you wanted to protect your people at all costs.” He says quietly, looking away sorrowfully.

Pain lances through Arthur’s chest. “And what about you? You were one of my people. Why didn’t you deserve protecting too? I threw you out into a world that wanted to see you dead for using magic. I should have stopped you. I should have protected you.”

Merlin visibly swallows. “The lives of many outweighs the life of one.”

Arthur’s head is shaking before he even fully registers Merlin’s words. “No. That’s not true. Every single person serves a purpose in this kingdom. They are all important, and none of them deserve to be sacrificed for the good of the many. I know that’s what my father believed, but he was wrong. It is the people united together that make Camelot strong, not just the fear that it’s army produces in the hearts of our enemies.”

“I should have trusted you.” He continues after a deep breath. “Even back then, I trusted you. I knew you meant Camelot no harm. You had always risked your own life to save mine. I was stupid, and made a decision based on that stupidity, and everyone paid the price for it. You were always there when I needed you, but when you needed me, I let you down.”

He has to stop to swallow thickly. Merlin has tears glistening in his eyes, but Arthur doesn’t move to comfort him. He’s still aware of how uncertain things are between them. There are lines and boundaries where there used to be none, but everything has gotten so mixed up that he doesn’t know where they are anymore.

“Arthur.” Merlin says softly. “I judged you too quickly. I was so blinded by hurt that I never gave you a chance to fully explain yourself. I did assume the worst of you, and that wasn’t fair. Until that moment, you had always been good to me. Most of the time, anyway. I was so scared to see you again, but not because I was worried that you wanted to kill me after all, because I didn’t want to get hurt again.”

Arthur’s feet take him a step closer toward Merlin without his permission. Merlin doesn’t move away. “I will never forgive myself for making you feel that way.”

He watches as Merlin stares silently at the floor in thought. “Is it true, what you said that night? That you hate yourself for what you did?”

The question shocks Arthur, and he doesn’t reply for a couple minutes. When he does, however, he can barely choke out his reply. “Yes.”

“And is it true that you consider me to be the person closest to you?” Merlin asks.

Once again, Arthur’s reply is squeezed out past his thick throat. “Yes.”

“And what about you not being able to live without me?” Merlin questions. Arthur finds himself unable to talk, so he just nods his head in reply instead. Merlin nods back, as if he was expecting that answer, and maybe he was. Gwen has filled him in on what Arthur had been like ever since Merlin had left, after all. There were no more secrets there. Arthur needed Merlin, more than he’d ever needed someone before.

“Merlin.” He breathes, deciding that he needed to hear those words from Arthur himself. He just doesn’t know how to say them with Merlin’s endless blue eyes staring back at him. How is he supposed to think, let alone speak, while getting lost in eyes like the sky? He clears his throat, determined to try again.

“I took you for granted when you were here. I always assumed that no matter what I did, you would always be there. You’d always come back, because that’s what you always did. It was foolish to think that I could treat you however I wanted and not push you away eventually.” He has to look away from Merlin’s intense gaze.

When he starts again, his voice has dropped in volume. “When you left, you took a part of me with you. I am no longer ashamed to admit that I need you. Everything I have isn’t worth it when you aren’t here, and I would give up my life just to have you back in it.”

Merlin is speechless, frozen in place. Then, he’s moving across the floor and wrapping his arms around Arthur in the tightest embrace he has ever felt. Arthur doesn’t hesitate to hug him back, one hand tangling in Merlin’s hair while the other grips the back of his jacket. Into Merlin’s neck, he murmurs, “Do you forgive me?”

“No.” Merlin replies. “Not yet. But this is a start.” Arthur buries his face into the crook of Merlin’s neck, a shudder passing through his body. Merlin holds on tighter.

“Will you stay? Please, I need you to stay. I can’t watch you leave, not again.” His voice is muffled against the skin of Merlin’s neck. He feels Merlin nod against him.

“Yes, I will stay, Arthur. For you, I will stay.” He replies, voice choked with emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What about the love confessions?” You ask. “Where is their first kiss that we’ve been patiently waiting for?” Never fear, it is coming next. Let the boys settle for a bit.


	9. Chapter 9

Being king, and being gone for the better part of a week, means that shortly after his talk with Merlin, Arthur gets whisked away to deal with things that came up during his absence. He had to sit though a council meeting that had been put off when he decided to leave, and it left him twitchy afterward. He could barely sit still. Then there were papers to sign. They were in the middle of negotiating a new trade agreement with a neighbouring kingdom, and he was the only one who could read the terms over and sign his name in agreement. By the end of the day, he was exhausted, and missing Merlin.

Bright and early the next morning, well as bright and early as Arthur could get now that he was home and actually slept like a rock all night, Arthur found himself outside Gaius’s chambers. He knocks on the door, and hears a muffled response from inside. He assumes it’s assent to enter, so he does.

“Ah, Arthur.” Gaius says when he looks up from his workbench. “What can I do for you, Sire?”

Arthur tries to discreetly look around in search of Merlin, but doesn’t see him anywhere. “Have you seen Merlin?” He finally asks. Thankfully, his cheeks don’t start burning.

Gaius raises an eyebrow. “I did this morning. He’s a popular boy all of a sudden. Lancelot and Gwaine were here first thing asking for him, and he has not yet returned.”

Arthur frowns. “Do you happen to know where they are?” He asks hopefully. Gaius shakes his head regretfully.

“I’m sorry, Sire. They didn’t say. Knowing those two, it could be anywhere.” Gaius replies. Arthur bites his lip and nods, already turning to leave. “Arthur, I wanted to thank you for bringing Merlin home.” Gaius’s voice stops him. He turns back with a smile.

“You’re welcome. We’re all very glad to have Merlin back.” He replies, heart warming when he sees Gaius’s genuine smile. He had dearly missed Merlin this past half a year. Aside from Arthur himself, Merlin’s absence had hit Gaius the hardest. “Gaius, I feel like I should apologize for sending him away in the first place.”

Gaius purses his lips and studies his king intently. “I understand why you did it. That does not mean I agree with it, but the important thing is that he is back. We can all move on and grow.” Arthur nods, still feeling ashamed. “I suppose we should all thank you for not taking his head off. In your father’s day, Merlin wouldn’t have made it past another day after using magic, no matter what he used it for.”

Arthur shakes his head sadly. “I am not my father, but what I did was just as heartless. Do not thank me for that.” He stays statue still as Gaius continues his scrutiny.

After a couple moments, he says, “You mean a great deal to Merlin, Arthur. You always have. Even when he complained bitterly about you, I could still see the fondness he held for you in his eyes. As his father figure, I am asking you or to hurt him again.”

Arthur blushes profusely, eyes dropping to his feet. “Of course. You have my word, Gaius.” He replies. Gaius chuckles, pulling Arthur’s gaze back up.

“In that case, I would suggest checking the tavern. You know what Gwaine is like. He is bound to want to celebrate now that his closest friend has returned home.” Gaius has a grin on his face as he says the words. Arthur huffs out a small laugh.

“Naturally.” He says fondly, turning to leave again. “Thank you, Gaius.” Gaius nods, turning back to his workbench, and Arthur leaves. He makes his way through the castle, then out the doors into the morning sunshine. The air is still slightly cool, but it’s quickly warming up. It’ll be another hot day, Arthur is sure. He has a smile fixed on his face as he makes his way through the courtyard, on his way to the tavern.

The Rising Sun comes into view, and Arthur pauses for a moment. His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty. He hadn’t really counted on asking Merlin to accompany him today while having an audience, even if it is only Lancelot and Gwaine. Who knows what other poor souls are already in the tavern this early. With one final, steadying breath, Arthur moves forward and pushes open the door.

The first thing he hears is Gwaine’s laughter. He turns his head toward the sound, and finds the trio in the back corner. Merlin is sitting between the two knights, patient and fond smile on his lips. He chuckles when Lancelot says something, while Gwaine guffaws again. He has a feeling that they’re laughing at his expense. He’s surprised to find that he actually doesn’t mind. Seeing Merlin still here is enough to make his chest settle slightly. Maybe he had been a little worried that Merlin hadn’t meant it, and that he would leave overnight.

Merlin catches sight of him first, and Arthur actually chuckles himself when he looks a little like a stunned deer. Lancelot and Gwaine peer over time see what has caught Merlin’s attention, and Gwaine snorts, not even bothering to hide his mirth. Arthur decides to make his life miserable at their next training session.

“Arthur.” Merlin greets, nodding in welcome as the king slowly approaches.

“Merlin,” he says, quickly glancing at the other two, “would you care to join me on a hunt today?” He asks. Lancelot and Gwaine share a look that Arthur steadfastly ignores.

Merlin chews on his lip. “I hate hunting.” He states bluntly. Arthur valiantly fights off the flush wanting to creep into his cheeks.

“Yes, but this time will be different.” He says. Merlin raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have to get the horses ready and carry everything, obviously.” When Merlin still looks skeptical, Arthur heaves a sigh. “Come on, for old time’s sake. Just you and me.” He is actively aware that he, the king of Camelot, is actually begging.

Merlin continues frowning for a moment before grinning. “Sure.” He agrees with a shrug of his shoulders. Looking at the knights, he says, “We can pick this up later when I get back.” Lancelot and Gwaine nod agreeably, sharing a smirk. Arthur still pretends not to notice.

“Good. I believe the horses are already ready, so we can leave at once.” Arthur says, hoping that his servant actually _did_ have the horses ready. He is a far cry more dependable than Merlin ever was, work-wise anyway. He doubts his new servant would so willingly lay down his life for his king. Merlin shares a rather indiscreet smile with his friends before getting to his feet. Arthur has to stamp down the jealousy that creates in his chest.

They leave the tavern side by side in an easy and companionable silence. Arthur is okay with that. He doesn’t know what he would say if he were to speak anyway. There is still one thing he has yet to tell Merlin, one thing that Gwen told him to admit to, but he never did. He doesn’t want to say it out loud where there could be too many witnesses. Not that he’s ashamed. He’s still just scared of Merlin’s reaction. This one thing could make Merlin leave after all, and should that be the case, Arthur doesn’t want all his people watching the scene unfold.

To his great relief, the horses are indeed ready. Merlin looks a little surprised at the lack of supplies waiting for them, but thankfully doesn’t comment. They both mount up, and Merlin wordlessly follows Arthur as he leaves the courtyard. They ride slowly through the Lower Town, only picking up speed once they’re free from the city. Merlin rides up beside him once there is more room.

“I thought we were going hunting.” Merlin comments as they head toward the trees. Arthur shoots him a grin.

“You hate hunting.” He states. Merlin visibly rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but you don’t.” He replies. Arthur’s grin shifts into something softer.

“Today isn’t about me, Merlin.” He says matter-of-factly, speeding up his horse to avoid Merlin asking any more questions. Merlin is forced to speed up too, putting his trust in Arthur to lead them where they’re going, and that he won’t hate what he finds there.

Arthur doesn’t make him wait long, stopping after only about half an hour. They are well into the trees by now, but Arthur steers them to a spot that’s higher than the rest, overlooking some of the lands around the city. He knows from experience that the view is breathtaking, especially this time of year when the leaves are just starting to think about changing colour. When they arrive, Arthur dismounts without comment, and ties his horse to a tree branch nearby. Merlin takes a moment to take in the scene before doing the same.

“Arthur, why are we here?” Merlin asks as they both settle on the ground. Arthur shoots him a sidelong glance.

“I feel there is still much we need to talk about.” He says. “However, as king, it seems like it’s my duty to constantly be interrupted while I’m in the city. Out here, we can talk as long as we want, and no one can stop us before we’re ready.” He’s nervous, and Merlin can apparently tell.

He settles an openly curious expression on the king. “Like what?” He queries. Arthur opens his mouth, ready to reply, but then looks away as he becomes unsure. Can he really do this? Can he really admit to Merlin how strongly he feels about him? He scrambles for the first thing that comes to mind.

“Like what you’ve been doing since you left.” He blurts out, immediately wincing. Merlin looks surprised, like even he was expecting Arthur to say something else. “Come on, you told Guinevere.” He adds, now having to stay committed to his ridiculous suggestion. Merlin studies him carefully before giving in.

“Okay.” He agrees slowly. “Honestly, I didn’t do much. I had nowhere to go, so I just kind of wandered. Stopped in to see my mum first, but I knew I couldn’t stay there. I just started heading away from Camelot and never really stopped.” He shrugs, looking away. Arthur is berating himself for bringing this subject up in the first place.

“I had to use magic to get food. You know as well as I that I’m no hunter.” He continues. Arthur snorts, looking apologetic when Merlin glares at him playfully. “I had hoped to stay in that village near the mountain, but they caught me using magic one night. I was starving, and I thought I was alone. They had tried to string me up, burn me alive for using magic, but I managed to scare them off. I didn’t hurt anyone, just had to throw a few threats around. That’s why they warned you not to come find me.” He looks pained. Arthur feels sick.

“When I reached the clearing, I knew I was safe there. The villagers would never come bother me, and the forest was tough enough to pass through, that I doubted anyone else would find me. And no one did, until you.” He’s looking at Arthur curiously again, and Arthur looks away.

Merlin clears his throat before continuing. “I was able to use magic freely there. I built my home with magic, and hunted for food. Gathered my firewood. Everything was magic. It felt freeing, and for a while I was happy. I could be myself without fear. After a while, though, it got lonely.” He shrugs as he stops.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry.” Arthur apologizes again. Merlin gives him a small smile.

“I know.” He replies quietly. They lapse back into silence. The guilt that Merlin’s story created is eating up Arthur’s insides. How could he do that to such a loyal friend? As he sits and let’s his mind scold himself, he suddenly thinks of something else.

“What about Ealdor?” He asks. Merlin looks confused.

“What about Ealdor?” He asks.

“When we stopped, you talked with your mother. You told me before we left that you talked about me.” Arthur says, remembering his confusion at the time. “What did you say about me?”

Merlin blushes and ducks his head. “Oh, that.” He mumbles. Arthur can’t help but grin slightly at Merlin’s discomfort.

“Yeah, that.” He repeats. Merlin shifts in place, biting his bottom lip.

“Well, to start, I told her what I just told you. She had demanded to know what had happened, since she didn’t think that you had given her the whole story. I explained everything, and then she kind of went on a rant, scolding me for being so careless. She didn’t seem to care that I exposed my true self to save your life. I’m her only son, you know? She worries about my safety constantly.”

Arthur tries to hide his amused smile, but can’t. Merlin shoves him lightly. “And then what?”

Merlin looks at him before sighing. “And then she wanted to talk about you.” He says. “She told me how much she thought you had changed since the last time she saw you. You seemed, I don’t know, older, I guess. More grown up, perhaps. Definitely more somber.” Arthur nods agreement. He could attest to all of those things being true.

“But she also told me about how genuinely worried and concerned you seemed to be, too. She said there was a sadness and a desperation in your eyes that only comes from true loss and heartbreak. She told me not to be too hard on you, and to give you the chance to explain yourself. She seemed to believe that I was very important to you.”

Arthur can feel the words bubbling up before he can stop them. “She wasn’t wrong. You are the most important person to me, Merlin. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Merlin is looking at him with wide eyes, scarcely breathing. Arthur takes a deep breath. This is it. This is the moment where he needs to lay his heart down into Merlin’s hands and pray that Merlin is gentle with it. He looks into Merlin’s eyes, _really looks_ , and feels something inside himself just click into place. This is where he was always destined to end up.

“Merlin, there is something I didn’t say yesterday, because I was scared. I was already so close to losing you, and I didn’t want to push it.” He pauses to just breathe for a moment. “I have already told you that you are important to me, but I don’t think I’ve ever really explained why.” This is the part where those three little, elusive words are supposed to come out, but he chokes on them. Even now, after everything he has finally realized, he still can’t say them.

Merlin lays a gentle hand on his arm. “Arthur, you don’t have to be afraid of telling me anything. I promise that I’m not leaving.”

Arthur looks up at him again and breathes, “I love you, Merlin. I’m in love with you.” He’s shocked for a moment that his mouth spoke without his brain telling it to. Those thoughts disappears as Merlin smiles softly at him.

“I know.” He says, and Arthur just stares at him open-mouthed.

“How?” He demands. “How did— can you—“

Merlin cuts him off with a laugh. “No, Arthur. I have magic, I can’t read minds.” When Arthur just continues staring at him in confusion, he laughs softly. “I just know. I can see it written on your face, see it in your eyes.” He grins cheekily. “And Gwen may have told me.”

An incredulous laugh slips past Arthur’s still open lips. Of course Gwen told him. She had seemed very certain that things would be fine if Arthur finally confessed his feelings. Why would she be so confident if she hadn’t already discussed the matter with Merlin himself? Merlin just continues to smile fondly at him. Arthur starts to get nervous when he still hasn’t said anything.

“And, uhm, how do you feel about that?” He asks, and he isn’t proud of how much his voice shakes, despite his efforts to try to remain calm and confident. He gets his answer when Merlin shifts closer, raising a hand to gently brush over his cheek. His eyes flutter closed involuntarily as Merlin’s breath ghosts over his lips.

“I love you, too, Dollophead.” Merlin murmurs. Arthur shivers as their lips graze over the words. Then, Merlin is pressing closer and kissing him for real. Arthur’s entire body melts as he kisses him back. It’s not explosive, or world-ending, like he expected their first kiss to be like. Instead, it feels calm. Like a shroud of peacefulness has wrapped around him and filled every pore of his body. There are no fireworks, or crescendos of music in his head. It’s just Merlin.

Merlin has a soft smile on his face as they pull apart. Arthur grins back dopily. Turns out Gwen was right. This all turned out perfectly. Perhaps he should let Gwen get away with lying to him after all. The knights are still gonna get it though.

“Wait, _Dollophead_?” Arthur bursts out. He had been so focused on how close Merlin was that he totally blanked out what he had been called.

Merlin gives him a dazzling grin. “Well, I still haven’t completely forgiven you just yet. Name calling seems only fair.” He laughs, seeming quite pleased with himself. Arthur shoves him, hard enough for him to tumble backward into the grass. He continues laughing. Arthur rolls his eyes and lays down beside him.

They stare up at the sky in silence. Arthur feels more at peace than he has in over six months. Things aren’t perfect, far from it, but they’re on their way. At least, it seems that way. Arthur just has to make sure he doesn’t screw everything up again.

“I will forgive you, Arthur.” Merlin says beside him. “It’ll just take time. We both need to fully heal first, but we’ll get there. I promise.” Merlin sounds so serious and sincere that Arthur’s heart squeezes in his chest. He turns his head to look at him, only to find Merlin already looking back.

“How can you be so sure?” He asks softly. Merlin purses his lips and looks back up at the sky. Arthur continues to stare at the side of his face. _Beautiful_.

“I’m not sure.” Merlin muses. “I just know.” He shrugs as best he can while he’s flat on his back.

“Like one of your funny feelings?” Arthur asks, recalling all the times Merlin had, had a feeling about something, and always been right in the end. Merlin looks back over at him and nods gently. Arthur let’s out a breath. “Well, I’ve learned to trust those funny feelings of yours.”

When Merlin grins again, Arthur can’t help himself. He shuffles closer and kisses him again. Merlin sights softly, happily, greedily reaching over to rest his hand on Arthur’s waist. The touch spurs Arthur on, and he rolls closer, pressing a knee between Merlin’s legs. Merlin grips his shirt and tugs him closer, until Arthur is half lying on top of him. Arthur’s arms are bracketing Merlin’s head, hands buried in his dark locks.

They’re panting, both trying to catch their breath, when they pull apart. Arthur leans down, pressing their foreheads together. When he finally reopens his eyes, he’s met with Merlin’s staring back at him. He hums contentedly and closes his eyes again.

“I won’t push you, Merlin.” He murmurs. “I will give you as much time as you need. We’ve come a long way from where we were a few days ago, but I realize we have a long way to go.” He opens his eyes again. “I will wait for you.”

Merlin smiles softly as he nuzzles their noses together. “Thank you, Arthur.” His voice is just as soft as Arthur’s is. He pauses for a moment before continuing, “And thank you for finally being open with me. For finally accepting who and what I am.”

Arthur slides off him to settle back onto the ground. “I’m not going to let my shortcomings push you away again.” He says solemnly. Merlin just continues smiling, shutting his eyes against the sun. One day, everything will be perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would’ve had this out sooner, but I watched Bradley’s ‘Redemption Paws’ livestream on Zoom instead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. Chapter 10

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Rise, Merlin. Court Sorcerer.” Arthur says proudly. Merlin lifts his head, looking up at the king. His cheeks are a brilliant red as his eyes hold a soft glare. He had begged Arthur not to do this, said it would be too utterly embarrassing for him. It took much endless prodding on Arthur’s part to convince Merlin to accept the title, and even more to convince Merlin to accept it publicly in a ceremony. As his friends applaud and cheer loudly, Merlin rises to his feet.

He gives Arthur one last glare before shifting his features into a bashful and embarrassed smile as he turns to face everyone in the room. Arthur smiles lovingly at Merlin for another moment longer before looking out at the cheering crowd as well. Gwaine is cheering the loudest of all the knights, and Gwen has immensely proud tears in her eyes. He looks back at Merlin as he ducks his head, cheeks somehow burning brighter. He reaches out and gently squeezes the man’s elbow. Merlin peeks up at him through his lashes.

Arthur nods at the doors. “You can go if you want, but I expect to see you at the feast tonight.” He offers. Merlin smiles gratefully, and steps away from the king. Arthur watches on as Merlin approaches the crowd. Gwaine hauls him into a back-breaking hug on Merlin’s way by. He chuckles when he sees Merlin’s eyes bug out slightly. When Gwaine let’s him go, he continues on his way, accepting everyone’s congratulations with all the poise that Arthur expected of him. Meaning, he stumbles over his words, and feet, and blushes his way through the room.

Once Merlin is gone, and the crowd had started to disperse, Gwen approaches him. “That was a very kind thing you did for him.” She comments. Arthur huffs a breath out through his nose.

“Not if you asked him. He was mortified when I first suggested it.” Arthur replies. Gwen laughs softly. “I still have no idea why he finally agreed in the end.” He adds on thoughtfully. Gwen gives him a knowing smile.

“Merlin would do anything for you, Arthur. You know that.” She tells him matter-of-factly. Arthur nods, cause he _does_ know that. “How are things between you?” She asks innocently.

Arthur glances at her before looking away. “Good. I’ve been giving him space. We both needed to relearn each other. Figure out who we are again. A lot has happened, and so much has changed. I had to get to know who Merlin is again.” He replies truthfully. He had backed off after confessing his feelings. To be honest, they had barely touched since that day. Like Merlin had said, they both needed to heal, and they had to do that separately, and in their own time.

Gwen hums thoughtfully. “Well, I think you should go find him. Talk to him. It’s a big day for Merlin. I’m sure he could use a little reassurance right now.”

When Arthur looks at her shrewdly, she just laughs and gives him a playful wink. His cheeks redden are the gesture, and he ducks his head to hide the colour. Gwen pats his shoulder and moves to follow the rest of the audience who had gathered to watch Merlin gain his new title. He sits in silence, thinking over Gwen’s words. She was right before, perhaps she could be right again. He gets to his feet and leaves the room.

He travels through the castle halls slowly, mulling over what he will say to the warlock. He continues his musings all the way to his chambers. He wants to change out of his overly royal garbs before going to find Merlin. As he opens the door, however, he finds that the room isn’t as vacant as it had been when he left it that morning. Merlin is standing by one of the windows, looking out at the courtyard below. As the door opens, he looks over and meets Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur doesn’t say anything as he stands in the doorway and looks his friend over. Merlin is still wearing his usual clothes, having refused to dress up fancy for the occasion, but he still has the red cloak tied around his shoulders. The gold Pendragon crest catches the sunlight through the window and glistens. His cheeks are still flushed a little pink, and his hair is a little mussed up from all his nervous pulling earlier. His looks ethereal with the light glowing behind him.

He smiles nervously as Arthur fully enters the room and shuts the door. “Merlin.” Arthur greets. “What can I do for you?” He quirks an interested eyebrow in Merlin’s direction as he reaches up to his own cloak and unbuckles it. He lays it over the back of one of the chairs around the table as he moves closer to Merlin.

“I wanted to thank you. It just felt awkward in front of all those people.” He replies, shrugging sheepishly. Arthur settles his hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he stops in front of him, meeting the man’s eyes with an intense kind of seriousness.

“It is no less than you deserve, Merlin.” He says. “Now you can have the power to really make a difference. With you by my side, we can truly change the kingdom. We can change everyone’s perception of magic. It will finally be able to truly flourish, while dark magic gets fought back.”

Merlin smiles weakly. “I don’t know about that. I doubt anyone would ever listen to me, or take me seriously.”

Arthur shakes his head. “You are a powerful warlock, Merlin. Now that you have a place in council, your voice will be heard. You will no longer be dismissed as being in the background. You will no longer stand behind me as a mere servant. Everyone will notice you now. You are going to do so much good, Merlin.” He assures his friend earnestly.

Merlin bites his lips uncertainly. Eventually, he does smile again, stepping closer to pull Arthur into a hug. Arthur goes willingly, his heart going out to the man in his arms. Merlin really has no idea how influential he is, and how much better the world will be now that he has the power to help shape it. Merlin pulls away with a shaky breath, but happy eyes.

“I still think all this is unnecessary. Not to mention mortifying, having all those people staring at me.” He reaches up to fiddle with the buckle of his cloak. Arthur bats his hands away, undoing it himself. He feels a surge of affection as he drapes the material over his arm and meets Merlin’s eyes again.

“They’re all just proud of you. This is a very big deal. Not just for you, but for Camelot as well. For the first time in recent history, a sorcerer is being looked to for guidance. It’s a momentous day for all of us.” Arthur’s words come out soft and sincere.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Then why host this feast specifically in my honour, and not for all of Camelot?” He asks. Arthur doesn’t reply, doesn’t feel like he has to. He looks at Merlin with shining eyes. Merlin’s blush deepens again as he finally, truly, understands. Sheepishly, he mumbles, “Oh.”

He crowds back into Arthur’s space, arms wrapping around the king’s shoulders. Arthur’s arms automatically wrap around the warlock’s waist, pulling their chests flush together. He rests his forehead against Merlin’s and closes his eyes, content on merely breathing him in. Merlin relaxes against him, and Arthur can practically feel his contentment rolling off him in waves.

“Yeah. Oh.” He murmurs fondly into the limited space between them. He doesn’t make a move, wanting whatever happens next to be Merlin’s decision. He sighs softly as Merlin sways closer and seals their lips together again. It’s been two months since they last kissed, but Arthur finds it no less intoxicating as he did before. It’s just as calming and natural as it was then.

He lets out a happy hum of contentment as their lips part. Merlin shifts slightly in his arms so he can bury his face in Arthur’s neck, above his shoulder. Arthur shivers as he feels lips press to the soft skin there. Merlin grins against his neck, having picked up on the involuntary reaction. He kisses Arthur’s neck again, letting his lips linger a little longer than before. Arthur squirms slightly, and Merlin chuckles victoriously as he pulls away.

When their eyes meet again, Arthur feels his breath catch in his throat. He pulls a hand away from Merlin’s waist to softly cup his face, thumb brushing gently over his cheek. Merlin closes his eyes and leans into the gentle caress, making Arthur’s smile grow. He can’t help himself as he quietly murmurs, “I love you.”

It’s the first time he has repeated those words since he first uttered them. His heart flutters as Merlin’s eyes reopen, and he sees that they’re practically sparkling. His mouth gets covered with Merlin’s again, a short, chaste press of lips.

“I love you, too.” Merlin replies softly as they break apart again. Arthur’s heart is nearly overflowing, he is so happy. He pulls out of Merlin’s arms, going to lay Merlin’s cloak over the chair with his own. His heart practically skips a beat as he sees the both of them resting there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He supposes it is. He and Merlin have come a long way in the last two months, having taken the time to reintroduce themselves to each other.

When he turns back to face Merlin, he finds him looking at him with such open affection in his eyes that it almost brings him to his knees. He smiles back, trying to get control over his stuttering heart in his chest. It’s a futile battle.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” He asks, cheeky tone used to cover the vulnerability in his voice. Merlin steps closer, pulling the king back into his arms easily.

“Mostly.” He replies. “Until you do something to remind me of how much of a royal prat you are.” He huffs out a laugh as Arthur opens his mouth indignantly. Merlin silences his protests with another passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... what a journey. This started out as an idea, and quickly became my proudest literary accomplishment. This work truly is my baby, and all your kind words and kudos throughout has made the entire process so worth it. A great big thank you to all of you who have found this, and enjoyed it. You are the reason any of us writers do what we do, and without you, there would be no motivation to write in the first place. Love you all, so much!!

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially now on tumblr! I suck at technology, so you’ll just have to go the old fashioned way of looking up: messandahalf10 😂


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